THE REM TRIALS: Spiderman and Phantom
by vintagegrace
Summary: Amelia Bright is-remarkable. In more ways than most people know. Because, while most people see a bright, young student; they miss the gifts beneath the surface, the ones that hide away in Lia's shadow. After an accident, things become complicated, and Lia's father brings her to New York to help regain a sliver of control on the power she holds. (Previously Supernova)
1. welcome

Hey! Whether you're a new reader (or returning from the previous version of this story — Supernova), I just wanted to say WELCOME! And thank you for reading this.

I have decided start rewriting this story. The reason for that is I wasn't entirely happy with how it was going and realized some major plot issues as I was going through what is currently up. (Also, there's the glaring fact that Marvel already has a superhero named "Nova" which I found out a few chapters into the first draft of the story.) So, I wanted to fix this in a rewrite. The basic principles are going to be the same, but it will be different from the original. Hopefully everything will be a lot clearer and cleaner this time around.

I started uploading the new version soon and took down some of the already uploaded chapters for the reboot. I hope to see you all here with the new launch! (and if you're interested in another Peter Parker story, I started posting another one called Siren's Sorrow! Feel free to go check it out)

XX –V


	2. Chapter 1

Click. Click. Click.

The repetitive sound echoes throughout the lobby. I press my fingers into my temples to alleviate the annoyance and bubbling insanity from the past hour of this. A part of me can't help but wonder what all the people that pass by think of me. A teenager with a wrist cast, sunglasses indoors, and a glare pointed at anyone who dares to meet her eye.

Maybe mum was right to send me here. I know things have been _rough_ since the incidents, but I suppose this was her best option. It's just hard to process. I haven't exactly been myself lately—and I'll be the first to admit my power is out of control. But that doesn't mean I'm not doing my best. Especially under everyone's expectations for me and my abilities.

Everyone thinks I'm going to be a hero—that I'll be something exceptional. They all think I'll live up to the names created for people like me. Names like ExtraOrdinary, inhuman, mutant, and—my personal favorite—Remarkable. Somehow, I don't think those terms quite describe me.

I tolerate Remarkable, but it's the only one that feels a little bit right. Nothing about me is 'normal,' and I don't mean it in the way most people do. I'm genetically different from the majority of humanity. Still, the ones like me were either born with abilities or had genetic markers that later enabled a scientific phenomenon to make them one.

In a way, both of those happened to me. My entire life, Mom always told me I'm special, which is one way to put it. Mostly because from the day I was born, everyone knew that there was something different about me, and not just because of the eyes that seemed to see everything and nothing all at once. I was almost entirely blind, and any and all forms of light would cause me to screech in pain. Even now, I still have to wear the stupid glasses in most lighting, but that wasn't all.

Of course, as a kid, I didn't quite understand. I thought that every kid could do what I could. The first day of pre-school was an abrasive life lesson on that matter. Because while other kids played with imaginary friends, I played with the shadows that molded into whatever I wanted or dreamed of.

Then the accident happened, and everything was turned upside down. I lost control. I lost control over everything and myself somewhere along the way.

It sends a deep ache in my chest and brings me back full circle to thinking maybe this is why mum sent me here ahead of time. She knows how much Dad has been helping me these past few months. Even with not meeting until I was twelve, we've become thick as thieves—especially recently.

He has been the only one who I feel like understand me and that I can talk to. It's hard to talk to someone about the nightmares, the haunting feelings, and the lack of identity. There's no one else who has been through anything remotely similar to me except him.

It took a while. Mostly because there's always been this distance between us. He didn't even know about me for most of my life, and when that changed, he already had a life and business. It took time for us to really connect and have time together.

Now, I'm sitting in the lobby of Stark Tower waiting to be picked up. Dad told me on the phone yesterday he had some big surprise waiting for me after I got in. My feet keep tapping out a beat that interacts with the receptionists keystrokes.

Anxiety keeps running through my veins with every minute that passes. Tony was supposed to be here half an hour ago. Yet, time keeps ticking by with no sign of him. I keep glancing at my phone with a desperate hope that he'll call or text to say everything is perfectly okay. But each time I find nothing, my heart drops a little more.

Rushed footsteps break my string of thought, and I look up from my blank screen to see Tony looking frantically around. When he spots me, a wide grin spread across his face, which makes on creep across my own features. "There you are, bug. I'm sorry for being late, but I wanted to come pick you up myself."

A laugh escapes me as I instinctively tug down on my shirtsleeves and tuck my arms around myself. "It's okay, Dad. I'm just glad you're here." I let out a nervous laugh as I try to bite back the tears at finally seeing my dad after what feels like an eternity—even though it's only been a week. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, bugs." He tells me with arms stretched out to give me a hug before he thinks better of it. "Come on, we should get going. I'm sure you're tired, and I'm anxious to show you your surprise."

"As long as there's a way for me to nap. I'm all in." I retort with a grin and swing my duffel bag over my shoulder, which he eyes curiously. "Mum is sending the rest when she comes in a few weeks."

He just shakes his head and reassures me as we head out to his parked sports car. "Well, if you need anything before then, I can always get it for you, kiddo." I shake my head at him and watch him as we drive.

It's really hitting me just how much I've missed him. These past few months have quite possibly been the worst in my life, but the chance to finally spend time with my dad makes it seem a little bit better. I can feel like I can breathe a little better. "What are you staring at, bug?" Dad asks me with his trademark grin.

"My dad." I tell him with a small chuckle. "I'm just really happy to be here with you. I've really missed you, Dad. Mum and I haven't been seeing eye to eye lately after the incident. Jim won't even look at me. It's nice to be around someone who understands."

"I may not get everything that's happened or you're going through, but I promise to be here for you. As for your mom, I'm sure she's just shaken up and unsure of what to do. She really loves you, bug, and she sent you here cause she thought it would be best for you."

"Yeah, that's what I keep telling myself." I mumble and stare down at my fidgeting hands. "It's just hard since we've always been so close." A single tear slides down my face, and I struggle to contain the rest. "What if she thinks I'm some sort of monster? Or some freak that can't even manage a sliver of control? I hurt my friend."

Dad sighs, and I can see the struggle on his face as he keeps himself from taking my hand. It hurts so much more that he can't. I mean, he could if he wanted a shock nearly equivalent to a lighting rod coursing through him. "I never got the full story on what happened. I'm not gonna pressure you into telling me what happened, but whenever you're ready, I'm right here."

"Depends. Which incident do you wanna hear about? The one that made people look at me with pity or the one that made them stop looking all together?" I know I'm being blunt and dour, but it's hard to be positive in these conversations. "Because trust me, neither of them are pretty or have a happy ending that I know of."

"Whichever one that talking about Will make you feel better. I know you haven't had many chances to tell your side of the story lately. Plus, it's gonna be a long ride."

"Fine." I cross my arms and sink as far into my chair as I possibly can. "I don't know why you wanna hear more. I'm sure you've heard everything already. It was raining; Jim and I had an argument. He looked away for a split second and barely drifted into the other lane. Another car came, we swerved and went off the bridge. My tech went crazy, I blacked out, and end of story."

"Lia," Dad draws out the sounds of my name, which cues me to mentally prepare for dad mode, "we both know that's not the whole story. You only told me pieces in the hospital, but I know there's a whole lot more than that."

I close my eyes and try to not relive that moment. 'Try' being the key word; 'failing' as the end result. There's no fighting it, and I know that my mouth forms the words to describe one of the two worst nights of my life.

 _The rain was pouring down heavier than normal. I triple checked the tarp to make sure my project was entirely covered before we headed out. None of it could be exposed to the utter downpour outside. Jim patted me on the shoulder and reassured me it would all be fine._

 _I was so nervous. My design was an experimental redesign of my dad's clean energy system. The far-fetched hope with the science fair project is that in the future it could potentially replace fossil fuels entirely._

 _It weighed a ton in my arms as Jim led us out to his lended van from his work. Jim made sure to hold an umbrella over us to keep from getting sick. We both knew mum would murder us if we ended up with a cold. I just wish we had gone home sick that night instead of the alternative._

 _The battery seemed stable when we left. I even remember doing everything I could to make sure it wouldn't tip over when we turned. It was fine, but I kept turning to check on it the entire drive._

 _That's when we started arguing. I don't even remember what it was—probably just a stupid disagreement. Jim was just so angry. His knuckles went white as he gripped the steering wheel, eyes so full of frustration as he looked at me for that fraction of a second. The next thing I know, headlights are glaring through the windshield, another car was honking, and Jim swerved._

 _It was so quiet like the world was put on mute all of the sudden. My stomach just dropped when I saw the water. I hit my head on the steering wheel when we made impact._

 _"_ After that, it was all freezing water and panic before I blacked out." I lie, but no one really knows the rest. Even saying that much out loud physically hurts. "The other one, I don't think I'm ready to talk about. Not sure if I'll ever be."

I rub my temples and nod at my Dad's gratitude and encouragements. Most of it is lost in the throbbing in my skull. "Hey, you know I'm proud of you no matter what. You know that, right?"

"Always, Dad." I tell him with a soft, pain-laced smile. "So—what's the big surprise?"

"Why don't you look out the window and find out?" He smiles and watches me in between glances at the road. I shake my head at him and stare out the window. The sight makes my jaw drop in surprise.

In front of me is the grand, looming white building of the Avengers facility that Dad talked so much about. My hand presses against the glass window, and I analyze every inch of the sight with a hungry gaze to take in every detail for myself.

The building glows against the darkening sky, and it sends a wave of awe through me. I know it was an old Stark facility, but whoever the architect was did a phenomenal job. "It's amazing." I whisper in complete wonder.

"Well, I'm glad." Dad tells me as he throws the car into park. "'Cause it's gonna be your home for a while. It would be a shame if you didn't like it."

My feet crunch against the gravel, and I suddenly wonder what life is going to be life here. School Will start up fairly soon, and we're not exactly near the city—or anything really. Mum didn't give me many details, but the way things were put my assumption is that there won't be anything like that. No school, no social life, just training—all the time.

I push the thought back to worry about in the morning. For now, all I can think about is the plush mattress waiting for me and hours of sleep, but the thought keeps tugging at me. "C'mon, I'll show you to your room, then we can do a grand tour if you're up for it."

"Yeah." I force a smile on my face and sling my bag over my shoulder. "So—um—how long am I living here before we go back to the city? I mean, it's still a couple months until school, but I was just curious if we were going earlier to get settled."

Dad lets out a sigh and leans against the doorway as I drop my bags to the floor. "C'mon, bug, I know that your mom talked to you about it."

"I just—" I pause and tug my stretched-out sleeves down for the millionth time, "—I just thought that maybe you would change your mind, and I could go to school. You know, be somewhat normal."

"I'm not having this argument with you, Lia." His voice grows angry, eyes almost closed in frustration. As for the other situation, the plan is for you to stay here."

"For how long?" I bristle and bite back in anger.

My dad visibly tenses at the question. "Indefinitely."

"Are you serious?" I shout, frustrated with the whole thing. "So I'm just trapped here 24/7 until further notice. Until I have whatever freakish new ability I didn't ask for under control? How is that fair?"

"It's not!" He shouts back; then when he realizes that his shouting only makes this worse, takes a second to calm himself down. I scoff, at least he knows not to trigger me further. "It's not fair, Lia, not to any of us. I just need you to work with me on this. I know this sucks, but we have to keep you here until you have yourself under control."

"To avoid further 'incidents,' right? And tell me something. Can we at least figure out a time frame? A deadline for me to work with?"

"We can talk about that when you calm down." He tells me without even a glance over his shoulder before he leaves and closes the door behind him. The frustration bristles against my spine, and I want to scream.

That is, until I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror; and I resort to pulling my hair more upset with myself for lacking control than anything else. It's been driving me crazy from the moment it happened.

I mean, when I was five and my shadow abilities started manifesting, it wasn't long before I could learn how to truly manipulate them in startling detail with a flourish and finesse. The energy bursts, those are something beyond me. They flare up with my highest emotions—joy, anger, anything that is overwhelming and powerful. Not to mention, no one can touch me without getting zapped. If they dare to, there has to be at least a hefty layer of something between us, but even then there Will be a shock.

Still, if it wasn't for that, I wouldn't be here, which I'm not sure is a good or bad thing at the moment. Right now, my anger makes me want nothing more than to sneak out and screw the consequences. I settle for throwing my clothes into drawers until I can finally settle down enough to go outside and make a good impression on the team.

Especially because I'm going to be here for a long while.

"Stop it, Lia." I scold myself and snap the rubber band on my wrist. "Focus on something else. You can't let it take control."

My breaths are still ragged and uneven as the emotions and energy continue to build up beneath my skin. I try to tell myself to focus—on anything. The soft fabric of the duvet that covers my bed, the picture of Trish, Will, and I at the festival, but none of it works to dispel the blinding flurry of buildup in my head.

I swear my heart stops for a second when I catch the glimpse of my reflection in the blank TV screen. Irises nearly filled with a gleaming silver despite the colorized contacts and a strange glow that seems to emanate from my skin. There's nothing else that runs through my head as I yank open my door and run—past the people in the kitchen and to somewhere safe.

The sounds of my panicked footsteps in the small stairwell fill my ears. My vision tunnels in front of me until all I see is the emergency exit doors and soon after, the wide open field. Someone shouts from behind me, and I barely manage to scream out a warning. "Please, stay back. I don't want to hurt you."

My feet lead me around the building, despite the deep ache that emanates from my bones. Tears build in my eyes as I falter for a second. All I can see in front of me is flashes of a London alley, the view from the windshield on the night of the accident, both which layer over one another in a blend of police lights and siren noises.

Pressure builds inexplicably beneath my skin and behind my eyes. I can feel the tears stinging tracks down my face. My own heart pounds out of sync with my struggling breaths; it threatens to give out under the pain and weight.

Then, all at once, everything turns cold and covered by a veil of shimmering white.

I've gone supernova again.


	3. Chapter 2

Bright, sterile, aggressive white lights greet me alongside the frantic beeping of the heart monitor. I open my eyes with a gasp and instantly screw them back shut. Everything hurts. It feels like someone dumped molten lead into my bones and left me to die from the pain.

My lungs start to constrict as the post-supernova panic settles in. The machine starts to beep more frantically as my heart rate picks up. Everything is fuzzy around the edges. I can't focus on anything as it all is lost in the giant haze of shadows and basic shapes.

A blanket drapes over my shoulders with a pair of strong arms holding it and me. "Deep breaths, Lia." Dad whispers into my hair. I focus on the sound of his voice, the scratchy sheets in my clenched fists, and the comfort of Dad's presence—anything to distract me from the raging pain in my skull and body.

"Good job. Just take a deep breath in and release." Dad coaches, and I struggle to follow event he simple instructions as he rubs calming circles on beneath my shoulders. "It's gonna be okay. You're okay now."

"No." I croak, my throat and voice raw. "I'm not. It's getting worse."

Neither of us speak as the words settle between us. Dad passes me my glasses without a word spoken or a look shared. We're too scared to talk about it, to admit the horrifying truth. Although, my need to know outweighs my fear. "How bad?"

"Twenty-feet, knocked out power for fifty. " He lets out a heavy sigh. "You really had me scared there for a minute, bugs. You were out for nearly seven hours. How are you feeling now?"

"I'm—I'm fine." I stutter and tug at the wires connected to my body. "I just—just really need some air." Dad watches me as I practically run out of the room.

Everything aches and hurts. My head spins and each breath feels harder than the last. I collapse with my hands on my knees after having sprinted haphazardly through the maze of hallways.

Something twists in my chest, and I can feel the shadows pooling in the corners ready to embrace and aid me at a moments notice. My hand runs along the darkened areas of the wall, feeling the shift in energy pulsing beneath my fingertips.

It's like a drug in my veins, better than any kind of medication they could pump into me. After a long moment, my energy is beyond what it was before. The smell of cleaner fills my nose as I survey the large, open room. Inside is a wide assortment of equipment, from targets to punching bags, boxing rings to climbing ropes, and a multitude of things I can't name.

A part of me is drawn to the wide open space with the mat lined floor. It makes me miss my gymnastic days. The times when I spent every spare moment training, pushing myself harder in hopes of another medal, and then the rush of the competitions, even the disastrous ones.

Although, the memory draws up the things that sent me over the edge.

I shake my head to push it aside as I slip my socks off and test the give of the mats. It's been an eternity since I tried anything like this. Muscle memory takes over as I curl my toes and tap my foot against the mat. Once, run, jump, tuck, and twist. Just like it used to be, until the landing.

The second my right foot hits the mat, I crumble.

Pain radiates from my toes through my hip, and I can practically feel the healed fracture pulsing. I flex my jaw as I push myself back to my feet, beyond the pain. Maybe it was stupid of me to try one of my moves after so long, but I couldn't resist knowing if I still could. Now, I resort to a simple round-off and salto routine. It's not the same feeling of accomplishment; it's something though.

My thoughts are pulled back to reality by the slow claps that echo through the whole room. "Tony wasn't exaggerating. You are talented." I look up at the platform to see the one and only Black Widow, aka Natasha Romanov, one of my heroes. "Glad to see you up and at it. Your dad was worried when Cap brought you in after—whatever happened."

"Yeah, that was a bit of an accident," I mumble as I try to hide the tremor in my arms at the sudden panic and adrenaline that rises in my throat. This is one of the moments I've been so excited for but simultaneously dreading. Tony has told me so many amazing things about the Avengers, and their reputation has preceded even that. "I'm Lia, by the way. Although, I'm sure you already knew that."

"I did. Tony was bragging you about you from the moment he heard you were coming; plus, you look kind of like him." I try to hide my shock that he would actually think to mention me, but deep down, I know he's proud; he just has a complicated way of showing it. She smiles as she nods her head over her shoulder. "So, you ready to meet the rest of the team?"

A nervous laugh rushes past my lips before I can stop it. "Not really?" I tell her as I tug my sleeves over my fingers. "I don't really want to deal with the looks. I'm pretty sure I haven't made the best first impression. Arguing with Tony, blowing up—literally, and—yeah."

"Trust me, most of us haven't made very good first impressions. You have nothing to worry about, Lia." Natasha smiles at me, and for a split second, I believe her. Maybe they won't hate me, or stare, or think of me as some anti-social, gifted, freak. "Come on, I'm sure they're just as anxious to meet you as you are them."

I feel my lungs scrunching up as I follow Natasha through the winding hallways to the common area reserved for the Avengers. Dad is already there, likely waiting for me, and offers me an encouraging smile. I try to return it, but there's still the argument lingering between us.

Luckily, other people start to take notice of my presence. Steve smiles at me as he sets the towel down on the counter and turns his attention away from his cooking. "So, this is the famous Lia, I suppose?" He asks my dad, but his attention is on me the whole time. I try not to let my smile fall when he extends a hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lia. I'm Steve."

My shoulder instinctively curls forward as I once again pull my sleeves over my fingers. "I'm sorry I really can't—I can't shake your hand," I explain with a sad smile, but he doesn't seem fazed by it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rogers—Steve." I correct myself. "I've heard quite a bit about you. All of you actually."

"Well, they've heard every good thing imaginable about you," Rhody calls as he stands next to Steve. "Tony wouldn't stop bragging about his brilliant daughter."

"I prefer the term 'exceptionally gifted,' but I suppose brilliant Will do." I retort with a smile; a sliver of tension rolling out of my shoulders. "It's good to see you again, Uncle Rhodey."

"Come on, Lia. Let's get you acquainted with the rest of the team." Nat interrupts as she and Steve walk me around the quarters making sure I get the chance to become acquainted with everyone. Within minutes of the first introductions, they all make me feel like an integral part of the team.

"Your dad mentioned you had abilities?" Wanda asks as we sit together on the couch once everyone has gone back to doing their own thing. It's obvious that she understands the emotions I've been attempting to shield away. There's no ounce of fear in her as she reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder. It takes everything in me not to freak out at the gesture as she asks, "Do you mind if I ask what they are?"

"Not really," I tell her, feeling more confident and comfortable around someone whose abilities could be relatives to my own. Not to mention the lack of fear that she displays; she doesn't see the danger, just me.

It brings a smile to my face as I wonder if maybe this is what it would have been like to have a sibling. "I—um—how do I phrase it? I manipulate shadows. They Will change based on what I want them to be, solidify, evaporate, whatever I want. It'd probably be easier to show you sometime." I whisper as I nervously check where everyone is in the room and adjust my glasses.

Wanda nods, clearly intrigued, but her eyes are patiently waiting for the rest of the truth. "What about the power you're hiding from? The one that caused a crater outside and you to be so scared?" She questions after a long moment of silence as she drapes her arm over the back of the couch. "Trust me, Lia, I know what it's like. Word of advice, you can't let that fear control you; if you do, there Will be nothing left of you in its wake."

"What else am I supposed to do with a literal explosive power that I can't control or understand? I've hurt people, and I'm terrified it Will happen again." I tell her as I pick at my nail polish, which throughout the day has receded to the edge of the nail bed. "Everyone wants me to get better at handling it, but none of us can even explain it. I get upset, the emotions consume me and with them that—energy, and the next thing I know, I've gone supernova. I'm like a dying star. I live fully and brightly until one day I become too much for myself and go out in a blazing burst."

"I don't think it's scary. In fact, I think it's beautiful."

"You wouldn't think that if you were there when—" the alleyway flashes into my mind for a split second, which snuffs out the words before they reach my tongue. "—never mind."

"At least you're here now. You're part of the team, and we Will do everything we can to help you learn and grow. I never saw myself here, but I am and happier than I ever thought possible."

"Maybe I'll be just as lucky," I reply before chaining the subject as some of the other team members start to join back into the conversation.

I look around the room, taking in the faces of the people who are now going to become my trainers, friends, and who knows what else. All that I know is I hope all of us can make it through in one piece, but only time will tell.


	4. Chapter 3

_Three Months Later_

"So," Steve asks in between breaths and the pounding of our feet against the pavement, "I hear you convinced Tony to let you go to school? That's quite a feat. You excited?"

"It's a mix of emotions. On one hand, I'm excited to not be trapped in the facility anymore, but it's also terrifying to have to start from scratch this late in the semester. Then, if anyone finds out who my dad is—I'm screwed."

Steve slows down earlier than usual for our morning run, and I try to hold back a sigh knowing he's about to go into the same mode my dad does when giving life advice. "Look, kid. It's gonna be fine. My advice is to just go in there and be yourself. If it doesn't work out, I'm sure you can show them a bunch of reasons why they're wrong."

I let out a laugh and push my sunglasses up on my sweaty face. "Well, either way, I have to get ready. Can't be late on the first day." Steve just smiles and shakes his head as he continues the rest of our routine run without me.

Although, now that I think about it—everything about my previous schedule is going to change. No more morning runs with Cap, training with Natasha and Wanda, meals with Dad, or meditative debates with Vision. I'm going to miss it.

"You ready, bugs?" Dad asks as he looks up from whatever he's reading on his tablet. "Or would you want to go grab you patrol gear so you can just hit he streets right after school?"

My stomach drops at the accusation—mostly because it's true, and it means he knows. "I—um—I should probably explain. Yes, I've been patrolling as Phantom, but I promise I've been careful. It's just—I've done so much damage these past months, I wanted to know that I did something good—something to help people instead of destroy them.

"Plus, when I'm out there, I feel like I can breathe again. You know, for the longest time, I wondered why I was given these gifts, if I was meant to use them or if it was just an accident. But they can be used to help people, and I want to do that. I just—I probably should have talked to you first."

"You're right, you should have." Dad lets out a sigh as he stands. "But, I can't be mad at you for being my daughter. So we'll talk about this after school. Okay? Just know you're not in too much trouble."

My head snaps up so fast that my glasses nearly fly off, which gives me a painful flash of light. I wince for a second and look at Dad with scrunched eyes. "Really? You're not mad?"

"No, I'm mad, but I'll learn to get over it if it means you'll be safer and happier with my help. Because I know there's no stopping a Stark when we put our minds to something." He tells me with a soft smile and hands me my bag. "Now, go have a good time at the new school. Just don't mention being a Stark, it's not safe if people know."

"I know, Dad. Don't worry, I'll be fine." I reassure him with a kiss on the cheek. Although, it does nothing to ease my own nerves. They continue to rattle in my chest and make my leg bounce in the front seat of the sports car Happy's driving me in.

It's terrifying. A new school means people asking questions, a whole new round of awkward conversations before friendship, and so many secrets to keep from everyone. I suppose it's the price I have to pay to have a slice of normal again.

"Alright, here we are—Midtown School of Science and Technology." Happy states as he parks. "You know the rules, right? Call if you have an attack, no Stark talk, and text updates to your dad every hour."

"Make friends, and don't sass the teachers?" I tease with a soft grin that hopefully hides my nerves. "Don't worry about me, Happy. I promise to call if there's _any_ problems."

Of course, I don't think that not knowing where the office or any of my classes are qualifies as a proper problem. Nevertheless, it's the main issue I face as I walk into school. I don't even bother trying to ask someone for help as I extend my walking stick to warn people and hope they get the message to stay out of my way.

"ARTI, pull up the school blueprints and calculate a path to my locker and classes based on the information the school sent last week." I whisper and push up my glasses to reduce any risk of stray light. Sure enough, it's only a second before the floor plans for the whole school light up across my lenses, a path traced in bright red through the masses of students, who all stare and whisper at me as I pass by them.

My support cane is nearly knocked out of my hand more times than I can count on the way, and I make a point to 'accidentally' smack the back of as many legs of the perpetrators as I can.

491\. I smile to myself at the small victory of finding my locker and rest my head against it. The chill of the metal feels like a blessing against my forehead. "Excuse me," a voice interrupts my moment of peace and eavesdropping, and I hum an acknowledgment, "are you the new girl, Amelia Bright?" I glance over to find a boy likely my year reading my name off a torn piece of paper.

"It's Lia, actually." I retort as I turn my attention and head to the owner of the voice. "Only my mum calls me Amelia, and even then that's when she's about to start a row."

The boy lets a small, choked laugh escape him. "My mom does that when she's mad too." He pauses for a second before catching on to his faux pas. "Oh, right, I'm Ned, Ned Leeds." He shifts his books in his arms and extends a fist out to me.

I stare at his hand. It's a simple gesture, but it sends a wave of anxiety rolling over me. My training over summer has made sure that I have enough control to manage no harm to him. Still, fear keeps me from doing so. "It's nice to meet you, Ned, Ned Leeds," I tell him and try to pretend he didn't offer his hand as I once again tug at my shirtsleeves. "I'm Lia, but I think you know that. To answer what assume will be your next question, I'm from Kingston. South London, as most Americans would know it."

"I was wondering where the accent was from." Ned pauses and looks around as if there will be a conversation topic scrawled on the walls or motivational posters plastered everywhere. "Do you mind if I ask why you moved here? And what the glasses are for?"

I mentally stutter in an attempt to figure out how to phrase it without sounding like a lunatic. "My dad lives here," I tell him quietly. "My mum thought it would be nice if we were closer. Plus, it was a great opportunity for my step-dad's career. So they're working on moving out here too. Next answer is the glasses are to help me see. They're just tinted since my eyes can't handle much light, and if there's too much I can't see anything more than blobs. Hence the cane too."

Ned responds with some acknowledgment that slips my notice along with the other things that he chatters and weaves us through the hallways. "Here's your homeroom. And if you need any help throughout the day, just find me around or in one of the classes we share." He smiles brightly and waves goodbye. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Lia."

I reply half-heartedly as I adjust my notebooks and slip into the back of the classroom. All the while, I keep wishing that my mates from back home were here with me. Trish and Will always made things seem so much better. I suppose I'm used to them drawing the attention from myself. If only I could slip into the shadows as I do as the Phantom.

Actually, I would much prefer to be the Phantom for a multitude of reasons. At least she has the privilege of hiding behind a mask. No one questions her motives, stares at her like a zoo animal, or makes her feel out of place. When I'm Phantom, I'm confident and free. Here, as Lia, I feel like nothing more than a new kid who doesn't know anyone.

It seems to show like a sign plastered across my forehead. As I slip into the room, a couple groups go silent to watch me as I walk past. Likely, they're wondering why there's a new student a month and a half into the semester. The whispers and hushed speculations follow me all the way to my seat in the back.

I keep my head buried as I flip open my notebook and pretend to be occupied so no one will speak to me. It doesn't work as well as I hoped though. A small group from a few seats ahead of me turn with smiles and questions brimming out to them. "Hi," one of the girl states with a too sweet smile that makes me slightly nauseated, "I'm Carter. Are you the new girl?"

"Something like that." I retort with a painful effort to minimize my accent as I turn my attention back to my notebook.

"O-M-G. I love your accent!" She practically squeals along with most of her friends, and my eyes roll so violently I half expect them to pop out of my skull. "So where are you from?"

"Kingston—South London to Americans," I tell her with a forced smile and try to politely end the conversation by focusing on my notebook.

Still, she finds a way to keep talking. "So you're a Captain America fan? I'm guessing from the patch on your bag. That's kind of funny since you're not even American." I try not to sigh at the assumption that because I didn't grow up here I'm not a citizen and the failed attempt at a joke. "I'm an Iron Man girl myself." She states with pride.

It takes all my self-control to not cringe or throw up as she continues to fawn and obsess over each Avenger. I zone out fairly early in, but she doesn't seem to notice.

By the time the bell rings, my head physically hurts, and I practically run before Carter gets the chance to latch on any further. Mostly because I highly doubt I could form a friend or even acquaintanceship with someone who finds my dad attractive—or _sexy_ as she repeatedly put it.

I get so lost in my quick escape that I barely notice Ned waiting in the hallway until I run into him. "Woah. Everything okay?" He questions as he takes a step back to avoid another collision.

"Yeah, I just spent the last hour with a girl who called me _Clara_ and spent a solid five minutes discussing the 'travesty' of my fashion sense, while _pretending_ to be stupid," I explain and finally let my shoulders relax. "Sorry for running into you by the way. I was in the middle of a quick escape."

"Oh, trust me, I get it. One time Carter and her gang tried to convince me of the 'importance of _never_ wearing stripes,' even though I clearly rock them." He lifts his voice up an octave as he imitates them and before I can think better of it, a genuine laugh escapes me, which leads to a very un-charming snort. I instantly cover my mouth in embarrassment, but Ned only smiles and laughs it off.

A natural silence falls between us as he helps me find my way through the labyrinth of hallways. "Wait—" he questions as we stop outside my next classroom. "—you're in a Senior English class? I thought you were the same grade as me."

"I am, but my credits from my old school weighted differently. So they put me in a couple higher classes and AP to compensate." He nods in understanding, and I take a glance at my printed schedule. "So what classes do we share? I'll admit it's rather boring having no one to talk to."

Ned seems to brighten at the comment and beams as he points to various classes. "Pretty much from here to the end of the day, but not English or French—I'm taking Spanish. Also the end of the day, I have Gym there."

"Oh, I'll see you there too. I'm _technically_ a part of the class, but they weren't sure if I could be so they didn't add it until recently. I'm just restricted from certain activities."

"Why?" It's an innocent question with only curiosity and maybe a sliver of concern behind it. Still, I can't tell him—or anyone—the truth. It would ruin everything, and I'd be right back where I was before and lose my fresh start.

I try to hide the stutter in my response and plaster on a tense, sad smile as I whisper, "It's a long story." Ned nods and waves goodbye as I head into class. A part of me wishes that he knew just how long of a story it really is. I just wish I could say it was nothing more than healed fractures and lingering problems of a car accident, but it would just be another lie.

Still, if anyone did know the truth, they would never look at me the same. But oh, how I wish someone would.

I lost track of everyone I had met about three classes in. It all became a giant haze of names, feigned interest, and forced smiles. There were a few genuine people I met though, the two main ones being Ned and Liz, both of whom bothered to do more than just ask questions and made an effort to actually talk to me. In fact, Liz acted like we had known each other for years after we made it through the basic questions.

It feels kind of nice knowing that I'm not just a 'new girl' to be scoped out to at least two people. I can at least tell Dad that I made _some_ progress with making friends.

Although, it made a small predicament at lunch when I couldn't find either of them and was unsure which I was looking for. I try to keep my head from spinning amidst the noise and chaos of the cafeteria. No one pays me any attention as I slip my way between the tables and cliques until I find a place in the corner where no one is going to notice me.

"Lia!" Someone calls out only moments after I sit down. "Why are you eating by yourself? Come on, I saved you a seat." Liz smiles as she picks up my tray and walks away with it.

A small, nervous chuckle escapes me as I push up my glasses and follow her. She stops at a table at the opposite end of the cafeteria, which directly opposes the popular narrative of nearly every film involving high school. "Guys, this is Lia. Be nice." She teases as I take the seat beside her. "Okay, basic facts out of the way, Lia just moved here from England. She's a sophomore, is completely brilliant, and—" She looks to me for confirmation. "—I think that's most of it."

I nod and smile at her initiative to spare me the usual round of questioning. Although, it doesn't make me want to shrink into oblivion any less. The group around the table is a mix of guys and girls, who clearly rule the school. It's the kind of group that we used to laugh about back home, the ones that were rarely authentic with each other and people could fade away inside without anyone noticing.

Now, it seems like the kind of group I could use to my advantage. The one with people who won't push or ask questions about my past. It might mean nothing beyond superficial bonds and fake smiles, but sometimes you need to pretend to be someone else to make it. So I memorize all their names and pretend to be another version of Lia, one who hasn't lived through her worst nightmares and survived, but who never had to face them at all.

Who knows, maybe it's better this way. Maybe I'll just fade away with no one noticing until it's too late.

Except, by the time Chemistry rolls around, I'm starting to question that train of logic. It doesn't help that Chemistry is the subject made me want to drive nails into my hands instead of studying it. Because unfortunately, my love and skill for science seem to have skipped this field in particular. It makes the mere idea of being trapped and forced to study it for an hour everyday nauseating. My only hope is none of my 'new friends' notice me turning green right now.

I rest my forehead on the cold surface of the lab counter. The truth is, it's not just chemistry making me feel ill. This was always a subject that Jim and _Henry_ used to help with, before everything of course.

Flashes of that London alley threaten to make an appearance along with lunch, but I force them back down as I feel a tap on my shoulder. The absence of the chilly countertop against my forehead feels like the tug of a blanket off in the morning, and I try to keep my face from showing the annoyance I feel coursing through me at the interruption.

The feeling fades a little bit when I see Ned smiling at me, with concern clearly written in his eyes. "You okay? I didn't see you at lunch."

I manage a nod. "I'm fine—just tired, and I actually at lunch with Liz and her friends."

Ned's eyes widen at the mention of her. "You had lunch with Liz Allen?"

"Yeah. She's in my Lit class; she's cool." I tell him with a small chuckle as he tries to gain his composure. "You wanna sit?"

He shakes his head and points to a table diagonally from mine. "Nah, I'm already lab partners with my friend, Peter." Then his eyes light up as he gets an idea. "Oh, I totally forgot to introduce you." He looks around the room in search of the boy and quickly calls his name once he spots him coming in.

"What's up, Ned?" The boy questions, absolutely oblivious to my presence here.

"I wanted you to meet the new girl, Lia." He tells his best friend with a knowing smile, and I can't help but feel this is a bit of a setup.

My heart lurches in my chest and stomach drops to the floor when he turns to face me with wide eyes. Large brown eyes tracing over the details of my face, hair fixed back perfectly, and a too big Midtown sweatshirt covering his arms. _At first glance, he looks just like Henry_. "Oh, um, hi. I'm Parker. I-I mean, I'm Peaker—Peter."

"It's nice to meet you, Peter," I whisper back trying my best to not let my nerves show too much and push down the approaching memories. The attempt fails miserably, and I slip my phone out of my pocket as I practically run out of the room. "I'm sorry. I have to go."

The hallways are nearly empty, and no one pays me any attention as I rush out the front doors and collapse on the front steps with my head on my knees. "ARTI," I whisper through heavy breaths, "send a signal to Dad."

"Yes, Miss Bright." The program replies. "Mr. Stark has been notified."

For once, I actually appreciate Dad's stupid regulations, rules, and safeguards as the tears start to trail down my cheek and my chest tightens. The school's front door closes with a thud, and I furiously wipe my face as I turn to see who it is. Peter stands there nervously, breathing deeply like he ran the whole way after me. "I'm sorry. I just—you looked—are you—are you okay?" He questions as he carefully steps closer to me.

"Not really, but I will be." I sigh and wrap my arms around my stomach forcing my breaths to even out and tears to stop. "I'm sorry if I worried you. It's nothing really."

"Doesn't seem like nothing. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Won't you miss Chem?" I question, looking for any excuse I can find. He just holds up an old battered clipboard with the words 'HALL PASS' messily scrawled across in black sharpie over a multitude of other phrases and doodles. "Why do you care?" The question comes off harsher than I intended, and even I cringe at the sound of it.

"Because, like my Uncle always told me, 'if you have the chance to be a help, do it.'"

"He sounds like he was a caring guy," I mumble as I slide my phone back into my jumper pocket. "It's a long story, but—um—you reminded me of someone I knew back home."

Peter shifts uncomfortably at the statement, but he doesn't leave. "Why did that make you upset though? Is he—?"

"No, he's not gone. Not really, at least." I fiddle with the edges of my jumper and think over whether or not this is a good idea to tell an almost stranger this. There's just something about Peter makes it feel safe and natural. Maybe it's just that he looks like Henry, but it feels like something more. "I'd rather not talk about it. Trust me, it's not a fun or pretty story, and I don't enjoy telling it. So, let's just leave at it didn't end well. Henry ended up in the hospital with a concussion and suffered a nervous breakdown. He hasn't been the same since."

"Wow." Peter sighs and a rough laugh escapes me. "Sorry, I just—that's gotta be tough."

"You learn to live," I tell him. "You have to." An average black sedan tears into the parking lot, and I sigh. "That's my ride." I whisper mournfully as Happy quickly rushes out with worry and concern painted on every inch of his face.

"You okay, kid?"

"Yeah, I just—had a small panic attack," I tell him with a tired shrug.

"I'm gonna go let them know I'm taking you back." Happy insists and sidesteps me as he heads inside, likely to speak to the principal with an excuse about my 'condition.'

"Crap," I whisper. Here goes my chance at school and a normal life. I turn to Peter and find he's already looking at—studying me. "Thanks for listening and helping me calm down." I tell him with a smile. He likely helped me avoid another supernova moment.

"Not a problem." He smiles and waits for Happy to return before he leaves. Although, as I'm walking to the car I hear him call my name. "Will you be back tomorrow?"

"I hope so," I tell him and smile. "See you around, Peaker."

His cheeks turn a deep shade of crimson at the nickname, but I quickly lose sight of it as Happy nudges me into the car. I offer him one last glance and a half-hearted wave. Happy seems to notice based on the look he's giving me, but he still doesn't say anything.

Dad immediately pounces when I walk in the front door with Happy. "What happened? Are you okay?"

I wrap him up in a hug to silence the endless array of questions and mostly because, at this moment, I just need my dad. "I'm okay. I think I was just scared and overreacted." I mumble into his shirt.

Although, I leave out the fact that he overreacted too. A flare in our system is supposed to mean a phone call to check-in, not sending Happy in for a rescue mission. I suppose we've both been on edge though, and I'm far too tired too drained to argue. "Don't worry. A—" my mind stutters when I try to find an adjective for Peter Parker, the boy I only met a few hours ago. "—a friend helped me out."

Tony raises his eyebrows at the word, clearly interested and intrigued. "See? I told you, you'd have no problems making friends. Just remember—"

"—no boys." I finish for him. "Well, _boyfriends_."

"Exactly, you're too young to be in a relationship." He steps away as he speaks and looks for something as he continues. There's a pause as he states the next phrase. "Not to mention the danger and _complications_." Aka being a REM and honorary Avenger.

"I know." It comes as a whisper because of the growing lump in my throat. There's no ignoring the truth, I'm a danger to myself and am bound to attract even more. Still, despite the lack of romantic interests and prospects, I wonder. "How do you do it? You and Pepper, I mean. How can you handle living with what's happened and even begin to share that with someone else?"

He gives me a weak smile. "It's been a rough, complicated road, but we manage." He sighs and turns to me with a look I've never seen before. "It helps that she makes me a better person, _and_ a better dad." I return his soft smile as he places his hands on my shoulders. "I know I've made mistakes and haven't been the best at this, but I want to get better.

"Sometimes, you're so independent and willing to put yourself in danger that it terrifies me. I'm scared that I won't always be there to protect you when you need it most. So, I overreact,—kind of like today." I try to bite back the bittersweet smile that threatens to appear at this admission. "You're a better kid than I give you credit for. Just lay off the midnight patrolling for a while? I need to figure a few things out before you go back, and I need you to bear with me while I figure out how to be a proper dad.."

I shake my head, which causes Tony to frown in obvious concern. "You already are. Sometimes I think we forget that we're both a bit new to this dynamic, and if anything, I'm sure we both have a lot to learn about each other. So, I propose we agree to give each other some leeway."

He smiles and nods. I've realized over these past weeks amidst all the preparation for school that he never got the chance to learn. Mum kept me a secret from him for eleven years of my life; even after that, she tried to minimize any potential damage.

Yes, neither of us has made it easy on the other, but there's a learning curve involved with being a parent and a kid with our baggage. It certainly doesn't help that I spent most of my life thinking my Dad never wanted me or cared, but the truth was he did—even if he never knew I existed or realized it yet. Looking into the eyes that I inherited, I can see he's thinking the same thing.

"Sounds like a plan to me, bug." I let him pull me into a tight hug, far to exhausted and in need of comfort to protest, even against the nickname, he knows I hate. "Go rest up. You've had a long day, and you've got school again tomorrow."

I pull away from him, surprise surely etched into my features. "Wait, you're not going to pull me out?"

He just laughs at the idea. "It's like you said, there's a learning curve. I'm trusting that you can handle it, but—" His gaze turns deathly serious. "—if it seems like you're struggling to balance everything; I Will."

I know there's something else he's not telling me. It's all in his eyes; either a childish glimmer or a shadow. Whatever it is, it must be good. Because he looks like a kid on Christmas ready to burst at the seams.

As if he can sense my growing curiosity and apprehension, Dad just pats me on the head, which he knows I loathe, and says, "Don't worry about it. You'll see soon."

"Okay." The last syllable drags out as I trudge out the room and towards blissful rest. Still, even as I lay down and let exhaustion take over, my mind still reels wondering what my dad could be hiding.


	5. Chapter 4

My chest shudders as I jump up in my bed, gripping the sheets for dear life and searching for breath. A shiver traces its way over my arms despite the sheen of sweat covering every inch of my body. The house is deathly silent, which I'm thankful for. It means that I didn't ruin anyone's night by screaming from another nightmare.

Well, another night of memories haunting me.

I'm just lucky that I didn't blow out the power to the house. It's a small bit of luck that I savor but refuse to test as I climb out of bed. Maybe I should have Tony bring the coffin—or supernova unit of containment as he called it—over just in case, or start working on a more portable prototype.

Either way, I want to—need to—get my mind off things. My fingers sporadically twitch at the urge for action, whether it be tinkering or fighting. Anything to either distract my mind or raise my heart rate will do. Ideas pop into my head as I sneak through the house.

There's a part of me that wants to go elsewhere, that wants to patrol and maybe use some lowlives as a punching bag, but I made a promise to Dad that I wouldn't. It's mostly a bad habit I've created to keep my mind from drifting back to those nights.

"Lia Stark. Access Granted." FRIDAY's disembodied voice seems to scream against the silence as the workshop doors click open. I shake my head and brush off the lingering nightmares and a weird feeling of hearing myself referred to as a 'Stark.'

"Hello, boys," I whisper to empty suits and various bots. I absentmindedly walk around the lab, fingers trailing over the cold metal of various tools, which send a comforting shiver through me. Dad's blueprints hover on every now lit screen, and I allow myself to succumb to the curiosity and snoop on what he's been doing.

My eye catches on a certain project. A small smile tugging at the corners my lips as I take in every spec. "I guess great minds really do think alike." I chuckle to myself as I move it to a screen closer to the workstation and gather a few starting pieces. "Hopefully you don't mind a few modifications, Dad."

The telltale tap of feet descending the staircase is what finally snapped my concentration and gives me any clue of the early hour. I rub my eyes, finally feeling the strain from working for who knows how long. "I should've known you'd be down here." Dad chuckles as he enters the lab. There's a twinge of concern that laces over his voice as he asks, "Couldn't sleep?"

I avoid meeting his eye. We both already know the answer, and I don't quite feel up to explaining another nightmare. The pity and concern practically radiate off of him, and it makes my stomach churn in disdain. I go back to fiddling with the circuitry to distract myself.

Tony's defeated chuckle breaks the tense silence when he finally notices what I'm working on. "You found the blueprints."

"Yeah." I drag the syllable out and feel the blood rush to my cheeks in embarrassment. "I came down here to tinker, and, well, you aren't exactly good at hiding things." A cheesy grin teases my features at the comment. It's a double-edged comment. After all, he could barely keep his Iron Man secret, but I've been kept completely quiet about for the past four years.

He stays completely stoic as he makes a few corrections to my work so far. I gnaw on my lip to keep myself from bursting with a million questions or worry that I've upset him. Still, he can read me better than I give him credit for, and as if he can sense my emotions, Tony looks up at me with the classic Stark smile.

I break, and the questions come pouring out. Although, there's only one that makes it through decipherable. "It's for me, right? It's a suit to wear as Phantom."

He doesn't say anything, but the smile answers for him. There's a surge of excitement and pride that ripples in my chest. All because my dad thought enough of me to make a suit of my own. "Don't get carried away just yet," Tony tells me, his expression suddenly cold and serious. "You have a lot to learn and do before it's _officially_ yours."

My heart drops a fraction, but I know deep down that a chance is better than nothing. I nod my head, now even more determined to make him proud.

He seems shocked by my reaction—or lack thereof. "I just—I need to make sure you're ready for this. It's obvious you've got the abilities, and now you've had training. The last big question is if you're in the right headspace. You've been through a lot, but you haven't said a word about it."

I let out a sigh and continue to work on the suit. "What am I supposed to say? Two people are dead because of me. Not injured, _dead_. Not to mention, my former boyfriend who is pretty much a veggie now because of me. Mum can barely look me in the eye or touch me without flinching. I mean, she sent me away because she be around me anymore.

"Am I supposed to say that I still see Henry's face everywhere? That when I get cold I have to remind myself I'm not back in that van drowning or in that alleyway with a gun pressed to my head?" Tears stream down my face as I struggle to get the words out, and my knuckles turn white as I grip the edge of the work table.

"Do you want me to talk about how much I resent Mum for everything? Because _she_ was the one that let me think you didn't care or want me my whole life. _She_ let me think that Jim—who has looked at me like I'm one of his experiments—was the closest thing I would get to a real dad.

"Am I meant to say that it's my fault for the crash? I had begged to work a little bit longer on the project, and then in the car _I'm_ the one that started the argument that distracted Jim for that split second. _I'm_ the one that the medic was trying to save when the battery exploded and made me this explosion waiting to happen."

I start to hyperventilate, and I know if I say another word I'll go supernova again. Yet, I want to. Not for the destruction, but for the relief of the pain bubbling under my skin. "It's my fault." I whisper as my Dad pulls me into his chest and lets me sob into his shirt.

"Deep breaths, bug. In. Out." He whispers into my hair and soothingly rubs a hand up and down my back. I shakily follow his instructions, because the last thing I need is to add my own dad to my list of supernova casualties. "There you go. Just like that."

There's a long, tense silence that nestles its way between us. I can feel Dad's own ragged breathing as he too is trying to hold back tears. "Why did you never tell me about any of this?"

"Because I didn't know how, and somehow, it felt like if I did, then it all was real. There's no more pretending it's all a bad dream when you say it out loud." I mumble and pull away from him. "At least before I could tell myself I was gonna wake up one day to find out it was another nightmare. Henry would still be my crappy boyfriend that I planned to break up with, and we'd be hanging out with Trish and Will like any other time. Now, I'll wake up and realize it all happened. I'll have to wake up and deal with it all over again."

"Yeah, you will." Dad tells me as he brushes a hand through my hair. "Except now, you're not gonna have to do it by yourself. We'll work through both of our nightmares together."

I bite my lip and hold back the tears from the odd sense of comfort the words bring. "I'd like that. Maybe we can do it while we work on my new suit?" Dad shakes his head with laughter and nods with a beaming smile.

We work together in silence for awhile, and it's the first time I've felt content and calm in a long while. The closest word I can find to explaining it is—family. After all, this is one of the few times Dad and I have been able to connect in person.

Eventually, he breaks the silence with a heavy sigh. "Well, that's all we can do for now because you—my little bug—have got to get ready for school."

"Five more minutes?"

"Nope, I'm not gonna be the reason you're late today." He ruffles my harrow which I send him a nasty glare for. "If it makes you feel better, I'll wait until you're back to work on it."

"How about when I get back from what will hopefully be my first of many decathlon practices?" I question with a hopeful grin.

He smiles down at me with a raised eyebrow and the trademark Stark smirk. "Decathlon? How did I not hear about this before?"

"Well, I have my first meeting today to see if I'll make the team." I shrug my shoulder and stare down at my sock-clad feet. "Nothing's official. For all I know, they may not want me."

"They will." There's a sense of confidence and surety that only Tony Stark could have, and I half wish it was something I inherited from him instead of my mother's chronic self-doubt. "Unless they think you're too smart for them."

"Or if they realize I know nothing about American history and can't do chemistry to save my life?" I retort sadly and head out the door with Tony following. "I didn't grow up here, and they didn't exactly have extensive courses on the history of another country back home. All it would take is them asking me something about America, and I'm screwed."

"Don't sell yourself short, Lia. You excel in almost every other subject—aside from Chemistry, I know." He sighs and drops his voice in preparation for a hefty dose of parental advice. "The trick is never selling yourself short. The moment you doubt yourself, so will everyone else."

"Is that your secret?"

"Yep." He tells me with a wide smile. "Now go get ready to knock 'em dead today."

"Fine. I'm going." I laugh and take one last look back at him—back my dad. "You better not finish the suit without me!"

He holds his hand up in mock innocence and nods. "I promise."


	6. Chapter 5

In every class, I struggled to keep my focus. No matter how hard I tried to focus on the material, something in my brain just wouldn't cooperate and would send my thoughts drifting away. The most infuriating part was that most times, it was over completely irrelevant things, like what Peter must think of me after yesterday or how I was supposed to keep my head down when everyone kept staring at me in classes.

During chemistry, I couldn't even bear to look up from the worksheet. Peter sat at the table across the aisle from me with Ned, and I could feel him glancing at me every so often, whether out of concern or curiosity, I didn't know.

When the bell finally rings, I decide it's best to just rip off the duct tape band-aid over the awkward situation between Peter and I. "Hey," I mumble with a forced smile, "do you mind if I talk to Peter for a second?"

Ned just nods with a cheerful, knowing smile as he pats his friend on the back. "Um—what's up? Is—is everything okay?"

I nod and clutch my books tighter against my chest. "I just wanted to apologize for yesterday and ask if maybe—can we start over? I'm Lia—short for Amelia—Bright."

Peter glances between my face and outstretched hand for a long moment. My heart almost drops thinking he's not gonna accept, but it quickly rises gain when he takes it with a smile. "I'm Parker Peter—I—I mean Peter Parker."

A small laugh escapes me at the fact that this is the second time Peter has struggled to introduce himself to me. It helps me remember that he's a real person and _certainly_ nothing like Henry.

I take a quick breath when he actually shakes my hand. There's a tension there that I recognize all too well. Mostly because it's one that I have to keep in my own hand, and one that I've only encountered in people like me and other REMs with enhanced strength. It takes me a moment to process it, but only one explanation occurs. Peter Parker is a REM like me.

"Well, I have to get going, but it's great to _re-meet_ you, Peter. I guess I'll see you later?" Of course, now that I suspect Peter's secret, I might just want to keep him closer than I originally thought. It's always good to keep potential enhanced friends around, and if he's keeping a secret of his own, I doubt he'll ask too many question about mine.

"Y-yeah." He stutters with a goofy smile as we part ways for our last period classes.

I continue on to my last class with a smile on my face, and for a moment, I don't think I could be happier. Well until class finishes, that's when I see Liz and remember today is my decathlon tryout. My stomach starts to churn more with every step she takes closer with that excited smile. "You ready?"

"Not even remotely," I whisper back as I toss my books haphazardly into my locker. "I'm suddenly regretting everything, including agreeing to join the team."

Liz just chuckles and rolls her eyes as she puts her hands on my shoulders and forces me to face her. "Lia," She commands and makes sure she has my full attention, "you're going to be fine. Trust me, I'm the team captain, and as such, I know we need someone like you on the team. The others will see that."

"And if they don't?" I question. In my experience, I've found that people are strange and fickle things. They never seem to fit into expectations or boxes; no matter how hard you try shove. "What if they realize that I'm rubbish at half the questions likely to be asked?"

"Then I'll make sure to tutor you in the areas you don't understand." She reasons, and her unshakable optimism makes me crack a smile. "See? I knew you'd come around."

"Maybe I'm just lulling you into a false sense of security before I run away screaming." I tease as she loops her arm through mine and drags me through the hall. "For all you know, I could pull out my secret judo moves and make my great escape."

"Mhm. 'Cause you definitely study martial arts in your spare time." Her laughter echoes through the halls, and I force mine to join hers. Oh, if only she knew, I _highly_ doubt she'd be laughing.

We weave our way through the halls to the library, where Liz informed me all of the team's non-practice meetings are held. I try my best to keep my hands from shaking as the situation truly settles in. The students around the table smile and cheerfully greet Liz, each one completely oblivious to my presence.

"Good news," Liz cheers as she pulls me over to her side. "I found us another member for the team!" Everyone this is—"

"Lia." Someone interrupts, and I can't refrain from rolling my eyes at the voice. "You know, if you wanted to spend more time with me, all you had to do was ask." 'Flash' smirks as he drapes an arm over my shoulder.

It takes every ounce of my self-control to simply squeeze the pressure point in his hand instead of breaking it. "Don't flatter yourself." I seethe with a fake smile as he rubs his hand. "That wouldn't happen even in your dreams."

In the short span of my two days here at Midtown, I've had the great misfortune of catching Flash's attention and interest. Worse yet, he seems to grossly misinterpret my disinterest as playing 'hard to get.'

He feigns hurt at my comment and adds some generic line about how he 'knows I care deep down.' "Flash," I avoid looking at him as I set my bag down on the floor with a heavy thud, already half-exhausted form the pointless exchange, "if you were _half_ as observant and smart as you pretend to be, you'd realize you're certainly _not_ my type."

The other team members let out muffled snorts and chuckles at Flash's open-mouthed reaction. Still, it only takes a moment for him to recover. "Really? Then, what is your type if it's not handsome, charming, and smart?"

I ignore the comment for a second and barely spare him a glance as I reply. "Let me see. It's cute, kind, and _not_ drowning in their own ego?"

Liz hops in on the conversation, obviously anxious to break up the growing tension and change the topic before Flash makes a bigger fool of himself. "Sounds like you have someone in mind." She teases as she leans on the table next to me, and her eyes dance with glee as she asks. "Care to share?"

I can feel the group's eyes slowly focus on me despite their attempts to be discreet. It sends all the blood rushing out of my face. I mentally scold myself for being so cocky; because while it may have knocked Flash down a peg, it exposed an insecurity I'd much rather keep hidden.

A fake chuckle escapes my lips as the lie slips past far too easily. "There's no one. At least, not at the moment."

Liz drops the subject, but I have a nagging feeling she'll bring it up later. If I'm being honest with myself, that idea terrifies me, not just the conversation, but of liking someone after Henry. Because doing so means allowing someone to get close. Close enough to really see me, to know me beyond the mask, to get hurt, or to hurt me. Not to mention, my less than desirable track record with guys.

It's one reason I'm glad my dad set rules. It provides me with an easy excuse that doesn't involve bringing up Henry, and all the mistakes that we made when we were together or even how it ended.

I nearly jump out of my skin in shock when someone takes the seat next to me and abruptly pulls me from my thoughts. Peter smiles awkwardly as he pulls his chair closer to the table, and I half-wonder if he's noticed my analyzing glances or nervous tremors from Liz's prying questions.

Although, if he did, there's no evidence of it written in his face or demeanor. In fact, there's nothing beyond the shy, concerned Peter Parker I met yesterday. "Hey." He whispers and furrows his brows as he looks at my face. "How—how are you feeling? I mean, are you, are you doing better than yesterday?"

"Yeah," I whisper, trying not to let myself get wrapped up in how sweet he's being or how much he sincerely cares. "I'm doing a bit better."

"Aww. Does Penis Parker have a little crush?" Flash teases as he claps his hands down on Peter's shoulder much more violently than necessary. I bristle at the crass nickname, and Flash seems to notice. "Oh, I see. Penis Parker's trying to get himself a girlfriend."

Something in me snaps. "You know what, Flash. Maybe I was wrong about you." I smile sweetly, but the venom drips from every word. "Maybe you're not drowning in your own ego. I think you're just insecure. I mean, what other reason do you have for constantly announcing to the world Peter has what you _clearly_ don't?"

The smile that had been appearing on Flash's face suddenly disappears as the accusation sinks in. "So what, you've got a crush on Parker? Is that why you're defending him?"

"And if I did? I don't see how that would ever be your business." I glance at Peter to see him staring at me in awe. "Plus, Parker's a nice guy. Any girl would be _lucky_ to have him. The point is I don't ever want to hear you speak to him like that again, or else you're gonna have to deal with me."

"Nice job, Penis Parker. Get your girlfriend to fight your battles for you." Flash sneers.

"Flash, cut it out." Liz intervenes before I can stand up from my seat and smack him. Her icy gaze makes him tug at the collar of his jacket with a scoff before sitting down.

No one says anything as the teacher comes in, a binder tucked under his arm, completely oblivious to the still lingering tension around the table. "Ah, I see Liz brought our newest recruit. I'm Mr. Harrington; it's nice to meet you—"

I plaster on a smile despite the still burning anger and annoyance at Flash, but Mr. Harrington doesn't seem to notice it. "Lia Bright," I finish for him. "and the pleasure is all mine."

The comment brings a smile to Mr. Harrington's face. "Well, let's get this meeting started."

I zone out fairly early, but luckily, no one seems to notice. The only people who seem to even further acknowledge my presence are Flash, who occasionally glares at me, and Peter, who seems to be unable to focus on anything aside from the side of my head. I try to catch his eye, but he manages to avoid me each time.

It all passes by in a blur, most of which I spent wrapped up in my own thoughts. "So, I suppose the last item on the list is for us to take a vote on whether Lia joins the team," Liz states as she crosses off another item from her bulleted list.

"I'll take that as my cue," I reply with a gentle smile.

"Are you sure?" Liz questions. "You don't have to go."

"No, I think it'd be better that way. That way, no matter the outcome, there's no potential for _animosity_ between possible teammates."

Mr. Harrington nods, clearly impressed with my statement. The rest of the table nods in understanding, and Flash merely scoffs and crosses his arms in disdain. "I'll see everyone tomorrow then."

Everyone chimes goodbyes, Ned a second later than the rest, which makes me laugh as I sling my bag over my shoulder. The library doors click shut behind me as my phone buzzes in my hand with a reply from Happy letting me know his ETA.

My footsteps echo through the empty hallway as I scroll through all the missed messages from Trish and Will. "Hey, Lia!" A voice echoes through the hall, and I turn around to find a red-faced Peter.

"Hey, Peaker. What's up?" I question, feigning innocence as if I don't already know what this is most likely about.

"I just—you see the thing is—" He stutters, and I wait patiently as he tries to organize and articulate his thoughts. "Why did you stand up for that? And why didn't you deny it when Flash asked if we were—you—you know?"

"Dating?" Peter nods, still clearly uncomfortable. I smile softly and take a step forward to regain his attention. "Because, Flash is a bully, and I've known lots of people like him. Hell, I even _dated_ one. One thing I always hated about myself was never standing up when others couldn't. You're nice, Parker. You left your class to check up on a girl you had literally _just_ met. No one should ever make you feel small or take that away from you." I sigh and shove back the memories and emotions threatening to surface. "Don't give them that power, Parker. Plus, now we're even."

Peter doesn't manage to say anything else. He just gives me an odd look as I smirk and walk away. "I'll see you tomorrow?" There's a small crack that threatens to appear in his voice amidst the sincere curiosity and worry.

"You know it, Peaker." I can't help but smile over my shoulder at him. There's something alluring about playing this game. I know it's foolish and dangerous to get close to somebody, or really anybody like Peter, who won't settle for false smiles and vague excuses—who actually cares. Maybe I'm merely tempting fate, but something tells me Peter Parker is worth the risk.

At least, that's what I convince myself of as I head out to meet Happy. A smile plasters itself on my face and refuses to budge despite my many attempts. I remind myself, it's just because I'm excited about the decathlon team. It's almost a lie, but there's just enough truth in there to let it take root.

"Meeting go that well?" Happy questions as he opens up the passenger door to Dad's sports car and cautiously looks me over. He looks half terrified at the sight of me smiling, and I try not to read too much into it as I nod and climb in.

"Nothing for sure yet, but I have a good feeling about it." I bite my lip to keep myself from saying anything more and hopefully minimize the smile.

Happy seems to notice and allows a small grin to overtake his features. "It's good to see you smile again, you know." My head snaps in his direction, wondering what he could mean by the comment. "I'm serious when you first visited you were so energetic and bubbly. It was a pain in the butt trying to keep up with you and Tony half the time."

I don't make a sound, and Happy sighs as he continues. "Sometimes I think everyone, including you, forgets that you're just a kid. You shouldn't have to have gone through so much or worry about being a superhero. All you should have to worry about is being a kid."

"I haven't been a kid for a long time, Happy," I tell him soberly as I chip away at my black nail polish. "This is all I have now. I'm a Remarkable; I can't pretend otherwise or ignore the responsibilities that come with it. After all, the life of a REM is either hiding, running, or fighting."

"Doesn't mean you have to put everything else on hold." Happy interjects, and I can feel the pointed look he's trying to give me without taking his eyes off the road. "Don't make Tony's mistakes, kid. Ask him, I can guarantee he'll tell you the same thing."

The rest of the drive back to the house is deathly silent beyond the gentle hum of the radio. Maybe Happy is right, but I can't admit that there's a chance at a normal life for me. Ever since the accident changed things and the incident with Henry, I've given up on any notion of being average—of being just Lia.

No. It's better to live at arm's length with everyone than to destroy them when I inevitably lose control or something of a hundred things goes wrong.

Maybe it means only living half a life, but it would be worth it if it means not ruining someone else's. Yet, despite the million reasons to not get close to someone, there's the natural instinct to get close, to let someone in, to take the risk despite the cost—like with Peter and Ned. There's that desire for real friendship instead of the imitation I'm settling for with Liz and her friends.

I tear myself to pieces in my head debating what I should do, and by the time we make it back to the tower, my mind is nearly settled.


	7. Chapter 6

My mind just wouldn't shut off. I check my watch and rub my tired eyes when I realize it's nearly two in the morning. Dad's probably still up working on the suit, but he'd kill me if he found out I wasn't asleep for the fifth night in a row. It makes me smile at how far he's come in the dad department in such a short span of time.

Still, I don't know if I can make my decision on just his advice. Because, while he's been in my shoes, there's still other people it could affect. I know I made my choice, to stay with false 'friends' than risk getting too close to someone, but pesky human nature and anxiety won't let me stop questioning it.

My phone glows in my darkroom as I swipe it open and click on the familiar contact. I half expect him not to answer, but he's always been an early riser—the dweeb.

Sure enough, after a few rings, the familiar face pops up. "Li-li" Will shouts once the call officially connects, and I nearly drop my phone in surprise.

"Will you hush, you div? You'll get me in trouble." I whisper harshly as I plug in my headphones. "God, I still hate that you're an early bird. I don't know how you do it."

"That's because you're a night owl at heart." He grins into the camera. "Time difference helps though."

"Glad to know it's good for something."

Will narrows his eyes, analyzing me from an ocean away. "I know that face. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I lie, and both of us know he doesn't buy it. "I just–I was wanting to check in, ask how he's doing."

"He's been doing well lately. Always talking about how he misses his girl like mad though, bragging about how she's gone international." Will chuckles, and I try to ignore the stabbing pain his words sends through my chest. Will smiles ruefully. Henry's mind isn't what it used to be, and he goes back and forth between calling me his girlfriend despite the breakup we had before the incident and cursing my name. "You really should call him. He misses you, and I swear, he's a lot better than last time."

"I can't. I ruined his life, Will. He'll never be the same because of me, and I'm sure he doesn't want to speak to me, even if he's having a good day and forgets enough to still think of me as his girl. We both know the truth."

Will's expression and voice go cold."Stop that right now, Amelia Bright. You _have_ to stop blaming yourself for everything."

"Easier said than done," I tell him and but back tears. "I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"Everything." I cry. "This whole thing was supposed to be a new start, but I can't do it. What if someone gets close? What if something bad happens again? Or they find out the truth and hate me?" I feel myself shrinking as the tears threaten to spill. "What if—what if maybe I'm not meant to get close to anyone? To have friends? To be loved and normal? Will, what if everyone I get close to ends up like another Henry?"

Each question is a double-edged sword, but the last one strikes deeply. Will's expression softens for a moment before hardening over. "That's a load of crap if I ever heard it. Look, Lia," he sighs and runs a hand through his already styled hair, which only messes it all up, but he doesn't seem to notice, "you are the most amazing person I've ever met. You do not deserve an ounce of what life—or my brother— put you through. Anyone who has met you will tell you the same thing.

"And yeah, what's happened has sucked, but you have to stop letting it define everything about you. Spit in life's face for a damned moment, take risks, make friends, and follow your heart cause you've got a great one." I avoid looking at him, knowing that he genuinely believes every word he's saying. "It's okay to get close to people. Not everyone is as bad as the monsters you've faced, but you have to give them a chance to show you that."

"I know. I just—I can't exactly trust myself lately." I sniffle and wipe my nose with some tissues from my desk. "Will, what if—what if I fall again? I don't want to hurt Henry, or make you hate me if I—you know."

"Fall in love someone else? I promise I won't hate you, just make sure they're worth it. As for Henry, well, he's stronger and gotten better than we give him credit for." Will smiles, and as if he can sense my lingering apprehension, states with a booming, authoritative voice, "I, Will McNeal, hereby pardon you of your fear. Go make friends, be reckless, snog a boy or two, eat lots of chips, and just live your bloody life. Promise me, right here, right now."

A small laugh escapes my lips at my best mate, prone to theatrics, but always knowing exactly how to cheer me up at my worst times. "I promise to do my best."

Will rolls his eyes and gives me a lopsided grin. "It'll have to do." A shout echoes through his phone, and he looks over his shoulder in realization. "Crap, I gotta go. Just trust me, Lia, you deserve to be happy. So be happy."

"Thanks, Will," I reply softly and laugh at his reaction to the cheesy, childhood nickname. "Give Trish and everyone my love. I'll let you go for now."

"Will do." He smiles and waves as the call ends.

I lock my phone and collapse onto my bed with a thunk that violently echoes in the silence. Maybe Will is right. After all, he and Trish know me better than anyone else. I've always been held back by my fear.

Fear of not being enough.

Fear of being left behind.

Fear of my abilities.

Fear of getting close enough to get hurt.

Maybe it's time to change that. The thought spins in my head until my eyelids grow heavy, and I barely register myself tumbling into the exhaustion and head rests agains the desk.

"Lia," a voice calls as they shake my shoulder, "time to get up, sleepyhead." Dad chuckles as I groggily open my eyes and brush my mess of hair from my face.

"Noooo," I whine and bury my face into my pillow. "Just let me sleep, da."

The syllables are stretched and distorted in the early morning haze, but he still smiles at me calling him 'Dad.' An undeniable grin emerges across his features as he shakes his head with a chuckle. "C'mon, bug. I'll make you some coffee."

I push myself up on my elbows and grumble incoherently as he leaves the room. 6:30 AM taunts me from the bedside alarm clock, and I scold myself for not planning my sleep better.

Now I'll have to make it through school on less than four hours of rest. Can't say I haven't had worse scenarios though. In fact, I'm pretty sure fully functioning despite sleep deprivation is a classic Stark trait that's been passed down through generations.

My mind runs through what I'm going to do for today as I slip on my jeans and shirt. Will's advice replays on a loop and causes me to wonder which direction to take. There's the obvious path of sticking with Liz and the rest of her friends, as intolerable as they can be at times, or the riskier option of attempting to become real friends with Peter and Ned, who seem like they genuinely care.

Although there's an undesirable third option—staying away from everyone; as easy as it would seem, there's only more trouble bound to happen in the long run.

I bite my lip as grab my bag and begin to plait my hair anxiously. Dad waits at the bottom of the stairs with a large thermos of coffee and a banana. His smile falters when he notices the troubled look on my face. "What's that look for?"

"Nothing." I lie with a half smile. "Just still waking up."

He nods, clearly not believing the lie, but at least having the sense to not push it. "If you say so," he mumbles with slumping shoulders, "you know you always talk to me."

"I know. It's really nothing though." I reassure him with a peck on the cheek. "I'm gonna take the 'subway' today."

Dad lets out a small laugh at my failed attempt at an American accent, but his dad mode quickly overshadows it. "Fine, but at least let me come with you to make sure you don't get lost."

I roll my eyes but don't pose an argument. Dad's only trying to be helpful, and even if it is a little frustrating to be treated like a toddler, I honestly don't mind getting to spend a little more time with him or offering him the peace of mind. "Fine with me. Just make sure you wear your disguise, I don't want to get mobbed or have anyone make the connection just yet."

For a split second, a flicker of discomfort crosses his face, but it disappears just as quickly as it came. "Let's get going then." He says all too cheerily as we leave the house.

I pause for a second and gnaw on my lip again as I mull over how to ask him about the weight still pressing on me—or if I should even mention it at all. "Hey, Dad?" He turns to me, worry creasing his bore from my tone and expression. "How do you—know what you're doing is the best choice? How do you know you're not simply being selfish and potentially putting others in harm's way?"

There's a sad smile that appears at the corners of his mouth, and he sighs and looks at me as if the question exposed everything, which it likely did.

He settles a hand on my shoulder and, under his gaze, it feels like the shared weight of the world. The feeling only increases as he begins to speak. "Look, I'm gonna be honest—" he sighs and collects his thoughts before continuing, "—there's no exact formula. You just have to trust your gut and know—you're a person too.

"There may always be baggage and danger, but it's a calculated risk, just like everything is. You're just the one who decides if it's worth it, and you'd be surprised how good people are willing to stand by you—no matter the circumstances."

I nod and let the advice turn over in my head. Dad has a point. There are times I get so wrapped up in all the 'what-ifs,' I forget that I'm a person too—that other people's choices aren't always my responsibility.

"Thank you," I whisper in reply, long after either of us had spoken last. "I think—I know what I'm going to do."

Determination settles in my bones, and I know there will be no turning back after this. I just pray I've made the right choice.

It keep reassuring myself the whole way to school and all throughout my morning classes. After all, this might just be the safer option in the long run if my suspicions are correct. It makes me hope even more that they are.

When lunch finally rolled around, my exhaustion had faded into a dull throb in the back of my head. Although, despite my effort to keep it back, my anxiety creeps up behind me, whispering questions in the hopes of making me doubt my choice.

I linger in front of the tables for a moment—frozen. This shouldn't be happening. I've made my choice, determined to stick with it. But, my monsters just can't resist making me doubt. I bite my lip and force deep breaths in and out as I continue on my way, anxiety or not.

The thoughts and worries keep swirling and dancing so violently, my head swims. Everything takes on a momentary haze, before violently snapping back to normal. Suddenly, my tray full of food because infinitely more unappetizing as try to keep from falling over or tumbling into someone.

Seconds stretch out into what feels like hours before I finally spot the familiar faces I was looking for. They barely notice me as I step up to the table and watch them in amusement. Ned and Peter sit next to each other, rapt with the conversation topic. My tray hits the table with a tiny clatter, which is enough to draw them out of their own world.

"Hey, guys." I smile and suddenly become terrified when their eyes widen in panic. A layer of sweat coats my palms, and before I can think the words start to tumble past my lips. "Is it okay if I join you? I can go somewhere else if you don't want me to. I really don't want to intrude on you. I—I'll just go." I pick up my tray and turn to move, mentally scolding myself for assuming they would want me to join them at all.

"No! Stay!" Peter shouts before I can even take a step. The sudden shout from the usually quiet table seems to draw the attention of everyone surrounding us, and Peter tries to—but fails— to simply brush it off. Luckily, most people stop paying attention after a few seconds. "Sorry, I didn't mean to shout. It's just you—you don't have to go."

"You sure? I don't mind, and I would hate to make you uncomfortable." I tell him.

"Me uncomfortable? I'm totally fine." He nervously chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck, and I give in. For no other reason than he actually managed to not stutter around me.

I try to tell myself that it's not because of the smile that appears when I take my seat across from him and Ned, and it's most certainly not because of the way both of them are terrible at hiding their stares. "You two don't hang out with girls often. Do you?" I question, slowly becoming a little bit more comfortable, despite the stereotypically anxiety-inducing situation.

"What? We hang out with girls _all_ the time." Ned tells me and crosses his arms proudly.

"I don't count, and neither do the decathlon meetings." The girl down the table calls not lifting her eyes from her book. "Didn't your mom teach you it's wrong to lie?"

A chuckle escapes me at the comment, and we make eye contact. It's brief, but long enough for her to crack a microscopic smirk and nod in approval. I turn back to Ned and Peter who still stare at me in a mix of awe and terror. "Guys, I'm not gonna bite. So stop looking at me like I'm a tiger about ready to pounce."

"Sorry," Peter mumbles and turns his gaze down to his food, but I can still feel him glancing back up at me.

"So, you guys ready for that Chemistry test on Friday?" Ned questions in an attempt to break the tension as he rips open a bag of crisps. I groan at the mention of the dreaded class. "I'll take that as a no?"

"Definitely a no. I've only been here for less than a week, and I'm already going to fail a test." I sigh and take a bit of my food. "Chemistry has always been my worst."

"Why don't you study with us?" Ned offers with a goofy grin dancing across his features. I get the feeling there's something he's not mentioning or an alternate motive. Especially from his not-so-subtle nudge to Peter's ribcage. "We could another person to study with, and Peter's a whiz at Chemistry."

"You guys wouldn't mind? I don't want to throw off your studying by forcing you to help me out." I tug at my sleeves as my anxiety crawls up my spine. Maybe I was wrong; maybe I should go back to hiding in the middle of Liz's crowd and remain unnoticed—unseen. "I mean, I can always see if my step-dad can help me. I have to stop by my mum's place anyway to catch up with her and swap out some stuff. You really shouldn't feel obligated or anything."

Peter's eyes meet mine, and I can see the previous worry seeming to subside at the sight of my own. There are that kindness and determination reflected in his brown eyes just like on the first day we met, and I have to break away before I get too wrapped up in his gaze.

 _I'm really going to be cautious around him._ I remind myself as I brush aside the flurry of thoughts and feelings that linger despite the broken moment.

"Yeah, you should definitely join us, Lia," Peter tells me with a small smile. A silent understanding passes between us as if we both know the other much better than intended and suddenly bonded over our shared monsters.

I manage a small smile in return and hope that my cheeks aren't too flushed as I reply, "I'd like that."

"Awesome! Oh, and if we finish studying early we can work on my Lego Millennial Falcon!" Ned cheers and I chuckle at the blood that rushes to Peter's cheeks after the prolonged eye contact with me. Peter turns to Ned with a scolding look before meekly turning to me. "That is if you would want to."

"Are you kidding? I would love to." I tell him with and brush a stray piece of hair from my face. "I've actually constructed the Millennial Falcon, Death Star, and assault walker with my friends back home before I left. Star Wars and 80s cinema was kind of our things. Just don't hate me for liking Star Trek better."

Both boys look at me with slack jaws and wide eyes. Ned pats Peter on the shoulder. "Lia, we officially welcome you to the inner circle. Peter, prepare for some competition in the best friend category."

I barely manage to hold in a laugh as the two dissolves into another ridiculous, joking argument, and for a moment, I don't doubt that I made the right choice.


	8. Chapter 7

I knock on the door to Mum's new apartment, dread filling me with each resounding thump. This is going to be the first time my mum and I will be in the same room for more than five minutes since I got out of the hospital from the second incident with Henry. Not to mention, she's the one that shipped me off like an unwanted package to Dad.

The door swings open to revel my Mum, her long dark hair curled up in a high ponytail. "Lia," She whispers with a smile that's not as forced as it was when I last saw her, "C'mon in. I've almost got all your boxes in your room whenever you want to unpack or go through them."

I nod with a forced smile and desperately rack my brain for a decent conversation topic. "So—um—how was the trip?"

Mum lets out a heavy sigh and rubs the bridge of her nose. "Don't do that to me, Amelia. I've told you a hundred times, I didn't send you here as a punishment. You needed help that I couldn't provide, and it was killing me to see my baby girl in so much pain like that."

"I know. It's actually been nice out here. The kids at school don't gawk at me, Dad actually looks me in the eye, and even Pepper doesn't flinch when I move too quickly." I tell her with a bitter grin. "Not to mention, no one's busting out microscopes and waivers to do medical testing on me."

"Jim only wanted to help." She counters with crossed arms. "He really wants to make it up to you for everything."

"Well, he'll get plenty of chances now that we're back in the same country." My bag falls to the floor with a thump relieving my shoulder of the pressure. I drop my head as Dad's voice rings through my head. "I'm sorry. I know I've been a bit of a priss lately, but Dad's helping me work through everything."

Mum nods her head and closes the distance between us to wrap me in a hug. "Yeah, but I haven't exactly been the best either. Maybe you could stay for dinner, and we catch up?"

"I—I'd like that, Mum." I question as I pull away. "Will Jim be back in time to join us?"

"Probably, it depends on how long it takes for him to get himself settled at the lab." She brushes a strand of hair behind my ear as her eyes trace over my features. "Sometimes I can't believe how much you look like Tony, yet somehow exactly like your Grandpa."

"Nan always said the same thing." I grab my bag and turn to the hallway. "Anyway, I'm gonna go unpack before dinner. I'm pretty sure Dad said that he wants me to stay here tonight while he and the team work out some stuff."

"I don't even want to know what's he gotten you into." Mum complains and turns back to her maze of boxes. "Just remind him what happens if he drags you into trouble."

"Will do, Mum." I call over my shoulder and peek into the rooms I pass by until I find the one with a pile of boxes labeled with my name. The walls are already painted a slate grey, bed pushed into the dimmest corner, and curtains already hung for me to block out extra light.

I let out a sigh as I tumble onto my mattress. It feels weird being under the same roof as my Mum after over three months of living with my Dad and the team. I'll admit I've grown accustomed to the quiet footsteps and almost constant buzzing of more than a few people around. This just feels like a step backwards.

Something about it just doesn't feel right. Not just staying here, but with the flimsy excuse Dad gave for why I needed to out of the Tower. He seemed pretty worried about something when he called.

Maybe it has to do with that secret project he's been working on. I bite my lip as my mind mulls over ways to get my mind off of it. "ARTI, scan the boxes and give me an itemized list of contents. I'd rather unpack strategically."

"Right away, Miss Stark." ARTI retorts and soon enough the list displays across my lenses and shifts with each box. Although, I can't hide the small smile that being referred to as a Stark brings.

"And, while you're at it, can you maybe open the backdoor in FRIDAY's system to find out what my Dad's working on. I'll talk you through it while we work."

It takes four boxes and a dresser full of clothes before I finally get to the bottom of the secret project _and_ what's bugging my dad, which happen to be two separate things. And the moment I understand the latter, an all consuming guilt washes over me. "This is why snooping is wrong, Lia."

Is there a 'worst daughter of the year' award or mug? 'Cause I know what I should get for my birthday. I deserve something horrible after this kind of violation of my Dad's personal life.

I tap my phone against my leg and debate whether or not to call him to make sure he's not doing something stupid. Except, in doing so, I basically admit to my dad that I know exactly what he didn't tell me or want me to know.

But right now, I'm more worried about him than how mad he'll be that I found out.

The phone rings a couple times after I press it to my ear. "Hey, bug. What's up?" He opens, and I can hear the strain in his voice. "Don't tell me, your Mom is already driving you nuts?"

"Not yet. She's mostly just having me unpack my room while she orders takeaway and searches for the movie collection." I pause and fiddle with the fabric of my sweatpants. "I actually was calling to check up on you."

"Why would you—?"

"I know Pepper left." I say as quickly as I can before rushing to continue on. "Also, you're going to do a presentation at MIT and didn't tell me? You know, it's on my list of universities to look into."

"How did you find out about those things?" There's a pause before he finds the answer on his own. "Nope, don't answer that question. I have a better one. How did you get into my system?"

"It's a long story. Plenty of loopholes, backdoors, and unrefined coding methods. Trust me, I am not proud of it and can help you fix the system later. The main point is that I'm _really_ sorry for snooping and wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'll live, bug." He tells me with a heavy sigh. "But, I could use some company on my MIT trip this weekend. It will give us plenty of time to talk about your misdirected skills and the morals of breaking into my system to snoop."

"Sounds good to me. Just remember I did it with the utmost love in my heart." I tell him with a nervous smile that he can't see. "I'll see you in the morning, Dad. I love you."

"Love you too, bug." He replies happily before hanging up.

I smile down at my dark phone screen and feel a little accomplished knowing that Dad's doing okay. Except, it only lasts for a moment before Mum pokes her head in. "Food's here, and I got one of your favorite movies queued up."

"Great. I'll be there in a second." I tell her with a forced smile. There's something I didn't bring up with Dad, and it's bugging me. Maybe he doesn't know about it yet, or maybe he hasn't said anything since it's not public knowledge. Either way, I have a sinking feeling in my gut about it.

It doesn't take a psychic or a meteorologist to see the storm brewing, and I have a feeling that the Sokovia Accords might tear us all apart.


	9. Chapter 8

I rub my eyes and try to pay attention to what Miss Harman is talking about, but apparently, Chemistry _doesn't_ get easier when you're sleep deprived.

It's been two weeks since that MIT trip with Dad and twelve days since the Accords were made public. No one has really been sleeping well since it happened. Especially with the ultimatum looming over our us and the arguments about it. Everyone's taking sides, and I'm currently trapped in the middle.

I've been doing everything I can to not go supernova at the slightest thing. Like right now, when the bell rings. My muscles tense up, and eyes screw shut as I wait it out. I press my glasses close to my face to hope no one will notice the tears brimming in my eyes as I tremble from the strain.

"Lia, are—are you okay?" Peter asks when he notices me still leaning on my desk and offers me my cane. "Do you need me to take to the nurse? Or call you a ride home?"

"No, I'll—I'll be fine. I don't really want to go home yet." I tell him with a sigh and pretend to not notice him carrying my books. "It's been a little stressful the past couple of days."

"How so? If you don't mind me asking that is." He says the last sentence as quickly as he can manage the words.

"It's nothing really. My dad is just having some trouble with—work stuff that has him away at a conference, and I hate going to my mum's because I'm either alone or just hiding out in my room to avoid talking to my step dad until she's back from work." I look towards Peter to see him already watching me with a confused expression. "Jim and I haven't always been the best of pals. He wanted to have this perfect relationship where he got to play at my real dad, but I never let that happen. No matter how hard he and mum tried to let me think he was my dad, I never believed it.

"I mean, he's a blond with bright blue eyes, and my mum is a brunette with green eyes. So it was pretty obvious to me from an early age that one of them wasn't related. And since I have my mum's nose, it wasn't hard to figure out the rest. Not to mention, he always bounces between treating me like a child and a lab rat, which _really_ didn't help the relationship. Then I finally met my dad, and it all made sense. Jim's relationship with me only got worse after that."

"That's—it must have been hard." Peter mumbles as he stops outside the room for my next class, and I get the feeling he understands better than I know. "When did you get to meet your dad? I mean, your mom must have told you before too long, right?"

"I was eleven when she first told me the smallest details about him. Then, when he was in London that next year, she let me meet him." I tell him with a shrug. "It's fine. I know him now, and that's what the important part is. 'Cause if I didn't, I'd have definitely gone crazy by now."

"Then I'm glad you have him. My reason is because if you didn't, then we wouldn't have become friends." A pattern of blotchy red climbs up his neck as he says the words, which makes me smile.

"It's one of my reasons too. I'm glad we met, Peter." In a moment of complete confidence, I wrap my arms around him in a hug, which Peter takes a moment to reciprocate. "I should probably let you get to class, huh?" I mumble into the collar of his sweatshirt.

"Um, y-yeah. I guess you _should_." Peter stutters, and I just let out a heavy breath.

"Unless," the syllable drags out as I smile against him, "you feel like living a little and ditching an hour of class with me? Very un-Peter Parker-is, I know, but trust me when I say it will be fine."

"You know what? Let's do it." It takes me a moment to really process his reply, before I pull away to look at him with a wide smile. "Do you have a spot in mind?"

"Mhm. Let's ditch our books before we go." Peter's smile makes my heart flutter in my chest and this odd feeling I can place take over. "I think you're gonna love it."

Peter just laughs as I collapse my cane and drag him along to my locker—since it's closest—to dump both of our books. I can't help but grin at him as we sneak through the slowly emptying hallways and make it outside.

It's out behind the main building where people hardly come. Grass grows in a lush green, clover sprouting in patches, and a quiet that makes even a crazy day calm. This is my special little spot. I spread my arms out wide to show it off to Peter as I sit in the grass. "Welcome to my little sanctuary."

"Well, thank you for sharing it with me." Peter grins and sits across from me with our knees touching. "Do you come out here often?"

"Sometimes, when I get _overwhelmed_. Being out here helps me calm down a bit." My fingers pick at the clover. "It reminds me of this little spot in the park that my mates and I would go to. We would sit under this huge oak tree and just people watch for what felt like forever. What about you? Where's your secret spot?"

Peter immediately looks away as he fiddles with the clover. "I—I don't really have a place. I just usually hang out in my room and work on computers or stuff."

"No, no, no. You don't get to leave me hanging like that." I tell him as I stop his fidgeting hands. "What do you mean work on computers _or stuff_?"

"I—um—I kind of find old computers and electronics to take apart and put together in different ways. It's nothing really."

"Really? 'Cause I think that's awesome." Peter looks up at me with wide eyes at the comment. "I'm always fiddling around in my dad's stuff to see what he's building and how to make something of my own. To be perfectly honest, he's much better than I am with most of—and I'm sure you are too."

"You sure about that?"

"Positive."

"Why?"

"Because, you're the top of our class—trust me, I checked—one of the strongest members of the decathlon team, _and_ you build computers in your free time? Yes, I am quite sure that you're a certifiable genius. But if it makes you feel better to call it my personal assumptions and opinion, feel free."

Peter just shakes his head at me and changes the subject. I swear, it's only ever around Peter or Dad that I smile and laugh this much.

Except, that all fades when ARTI pulls up an alert across my lenses, and my phone buzzes erratically in my pocket. It continues to vibrate in my hand as I read the mass of alerts. "Oh my—no." The words tumble from my lips before I clamp a hand over them. Tears brim in my eyes as I read about the explosion—at the same meeting my dad's at.

Peter doesn't waste a second before he's at my side. "Is—what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"No, my dad—the conference he's—explosion." I barely manage, but Peter seems to connect the dots and immediately helps me to my feet. "I have to—need to get back home."

My heart pounds so violently in my chest I swear _it's_ about to implode instead of just me. I almost fall down flat on my face, but Peter keeps a hold of me to make sure I don't tumble to the floor. "Hey, just breathe. Okay? It's gonna be alright. I promise, but first, you've gotta breathe." He tells me as we stop outside the front doors, with me nearly a sobbing mess in his arms. "Do you need me to call anyone for you?"

I tap my watch a couple times and shake my head as ARTI confirms the alert send out. "Th—thank you." I stutter and bury my head into his sweatshirt.

"There's no need to." He tells me over the humming of an engine as Happy races into the parking lot. "Just try to let me know if things are okay? I'll try to call you later and check in." I nod absentmindedly before rushing off to meet Happy in the car.

"Is—is he? Do we know anything?" I grill the moment the car door shuts. "Any estimate on who and why? How many injured—or dead?"

"First, Tony's fine. He's a little banged up, but he and Natasha are fine." Happy informs me as he kicks the car into gear. "Second, I have direct orders to get you to the Tower as fast as possible and keep you there. Tony doesn't want you going out under any circumstances until everything is figured out. Third, when you get back, call him. He sent me a message saying he needs to talk to you about a few things."

"I'm already working on securing my private line." I tell him as I type away on my phone, each action mimicked on my glasses. "Do me a favor, Happy. Press the cruise control button twice and lock the doors."

He gives me a weird look but does it anyway. As the doors click locked, ARTI's voice chimes through the speakers. "Car is secure, Miss Stark. Connecting you with Mr. Stark."

"Lia, are you at the Tower already?" Those are the first words my dad says to me when we finally connect.

"That's not important. What happened? Are you actually okay? And what do you need to me to do?" I question and close my eyes to see if there's anything I can figure out.

"Basically the UN meeting was attacked, and according to surveillance footage from near by, it looks like it was Bucky. I'm a little bit bruised, but the team is fine. What I need you to do is track someone down for me."

"Isn't that a job for a P.I. instead of your teenage, genius of a daughter?"

"Not in this case." He pauses and lets out a huff, "I need you to find that other hero that's been going around on YouTube—the Spider or whatever he's called."

My stomach drops when he says the words. I have an inkling of who it might be, and I don't know if I want to know the truth. A part of me hopes I'm wrong—which will be a rare occasion. "I'll get on it, but first, you have to tell me why."

"It's complicated, but if Bucky did this, then I have a feeling Steve will want to protect him. So I'd like to know I have a team watching my back if it comes down to it. Let's hope it doesn't, but it's better to be prepared."

"Okay. When I get back to the tower I'll get started and let you know what I find."

"No, you're going to pack a bag, grab your laptop, and go to your Mom's. I want you to stay there until things calm down. Trust me, it won't be for long. I just need you to be off the grid until I get back." He says, and I can hear the concern laced in his voice. "I'll call you later to check in. I love you, bug."

"Love you too, Dad." I whisper back before hanging up.

My head starts to pound again. Because while Dad is okay, I have a whole other set of issues to stress over. Such as, my new family engaging in a literal war, possibly getting arrested or branded as an international terrorist if I don't comply, and maybe finding out the secret I've pretending my best friend isn't hiding.

"Try not to forget anything. I won't be able to bring you back, and I doubt you want me to go through your stuff." Happy calls as we get into the tower's elevator, and I immediately head to my room to pack my clothes and the lab to grab my laptop.

Except, halfway to the door out of the lab, I stop. "Dad, don't be mad at me for this, I promise it's just a precaution. You better not rat me out, Dum-E." I whisper to the unpowered machine as I stuff my suit into my bag before returning to Happy in the main room.

"Ready?" He asks and I nod while I adjust my bag on my shoulder.

The entire drive over to my mum's apartment, I keep silently praying that my suit doesn't have a tracker in it, and that Peter Parker has a normal secret—and not a secret identity. Although, I'm fairly certain I'll be wrong on both counts.


	10. Chapter9

In every class, I struggled to keep my focus. No matter how hard I tried to focus on the material, something in my brain just wouldn't cooperate and would send my thoughts drifting away. The most infuriating part was that most times, it was over completely irrelevant things, like what Peter must think of me after yesterday or how I was supposed to keep my head down when everyone kept staring at me in classes.

During chemistry, I couldn't even bear to look up from the worksheet. Peter sat at the table across the aisle from me with Ned, and I could feel him glancing at me every so often, whether out of concern or curiosity, I didn't know.

So when the bell rang for the end of the day, I was relieved, to say the least. Well, for a split second, until I saw Liz and remember today is my decathlon tryout. My stomach starts to churn more with every step she takes closer with that excited smile. "You ready?"

"Not even remotely," I whisper back as I toss my books haphazardly into my locker. "I'm suddenly regretting everything, including agreeing to join the team."

Liz just chuckles and rolls her eyes as she puts her hands on my shoulders and forces me to face her. "Lia," She commands and makes sure she has my full attention, "you're going to be fine. Trust me, I'm the team captain, and as such, I know we need someone like you on the team. The others will see that."

"And if they don't?" I question. In my experience, I've found that people are strange and fickle things. They never seem to fit into expectations or boxes; no matter how hard you try shove. "What if they realize that I'm rubbish at half the questions likely to be asked?"

"Then I'll make sure to tutor you in the areas you don't understand." She reasons, and her unshakable optimism makes me crack a smile. "See? I knew you'd come around."

"Maybe I'm just lulling you into a false sense of security before I run away screaming." I tease as she loops her arm through mine and drags me through the hall. "For all you know, I could pull out my secret judo moves and make my great escape."

"Mhm. 'Cause you definitely study martial arts in your spare time." Her laughter echoes through the halls, and I force mine to join hers. Oh, if only she knew, I doubt she'd be laughing.

We weave our way through the halls to the library, where Liz informed me all of the team's non-practice meetings are held. I try my best to keep my hands from shaking as the situation truly settles in. The students around the table smile and cheerfully greet Liz; each one completely oblivious to my presence.

"Good news," Liz cheers as she pulls me over to her side. "I found us another member for the team!" Everyone this is—"

"Lia." Someone interrupts, and I can't refrain from rolling my eyes at the voice. "You know, if you wanted to spend more time with me, all you had to do was ask." 'Flash' smirks as he drapes an arm over my shoulder.

It takes every ounce of my self-control to simply squeeze the pressure point in his hand instead of breaking it. "Don't flatter yourself." I seethe with a fake smile as he rubs his hand. "That wouldn't happen even in your dreams."

In the short span of my two days here at Midtown, I've had the great misfortune of catching Flash's attention and interest. Worse yet, he seems to grossly misinterpret my disinterest as playing 'hard to get.'

He feigns hurt at my comment and adds some generic line about how he 'knows I care deep down.' "Flash," I avoid looking at him as I set my bag down on the floor with a heavy thud, already half-exhausted form the pointless exchange, "if you were _half_ as observant and smart as you pretend to be, you'd realize you're certainly _not_ my type."

The other team members let out muffled snorts and chuckles at Flash's open-mouthed reaction. Still, it only takes a moment for him to recover. "Really? Then, what is your type if it's not handsome, charming, and smart?"

I ignore the comment for a second and barely spare him a glance as I reply. "Let me see. It's cute, kind, _not_ drowning in their own ego?"

Liz hops in on the conversation, obviously anxious to break up the growing tension and change the topic before Flash makes a bigger fool of himself. "Sounds like you have someone in mind." She teases as she leans on the table next to me, and her eyes dance with glee as she asks. "Care to share?"

I can feel the group's eyes slowly focus on me despite their attempts to be discreet. It sends all the blood rushing out of my face. I mentally scold myself for being so cocky; because while it may have knocked Flash down a peg, it exposed insecurity I'd much rather keep hidden.

A fake chuckle escapes my lips as the lie slips past far too easily. "There's no one. At least, not at the moment."

Liz drops the subject, but I have a nagging feeling she'll bring it up later. If I'm being honest with myself, that idea terrifies me, not just the conversation, but of liking someone. Because doing so means allowing someone to get close. Close enough to really see me, to know me beyond the mask, to get hurt, or to hurt me. Not to mention, my less than desirable track record.

It's one reason I'm glad Tony set rules. It provides me with an easy excuse that doesn't involve bringing up Henry, and all the mistakes that we made when we were together or even how it ended.

I nearly jump out of my skin in shock when someone takes the seat next to me and abruptly pulls me from my thoughts. Peter smiles awkwardly as he pulls his chair closer to the table, and I half-wonder if he's noticed my attempts to actively avoid him.

Although, if he did, there's no evidence of it written in his face or demeanor. In fact, there's nothing beyond the shy, concerned Peter Parker I met yesterday. "Hey." He whispers and furrows his brows as he looks at my face. "How—how are you feeling? I mean, are you, are you doing better than yesterday?"

"Yeah," I whisper, trying not to let myself get wrapped up in how sweet he's being or how much he sincerely cares. "I'm doing a bit better."

"Aww. Does Penis Parker have a little crush?" Flash teases as he claps his hands down on Peter's shoulder much more violently than necessary. I bristle at the crass nickname, and Flash seems to notice. "Oh, I see. Penis Parker's trying to get himself a girlfriend."

Something in me snaps. "You know what, Flash. Maybe I was wrong about you." I smile sweetly, but the venom drips from every word. "Maybe you're not drowning in your own ego. I think you're just insecure. I mean, what other reason do you have for constantly announcing to the world Peter has what you clearly don't?"

The smile that had been appearing on Flash's face suddenly disappears as the accusation sinks in. "So what, you've got a crush on Parker? Is that why you're defending him?"

"And if I did? I don't see how that would ever be your business." I glance at Peter to see him staring at me in awe. "Plus, Parker's a nice guy. Any girl would be lucky to have him. The point is I don't ever want to hear you speak to him like that again, or else you're gonna have to deal with me."

"Nice job, Penis Parker. Get your girlfriend to fight your battles for you." Flash sneers.

"Flash, cut it out." Liz intervenes before I can stand up from my seat and smack him. Her icy gaze makes him tug at the collar of his jacket with a scoff before sitting down.

No one says anything as the teacher comes in, a binder tucked under his arm, completely oblivious to the still lingering tension around the table. "Ah, I see Liz brought our newest recruit. I'm Mr. Harrington; it's nice to meet you—"

I plaster on a smile despite the still burning anger and annoyance at Flash, but Mr. Harrington doesn't seem to notice it. "Lia Bright," I finish for him. "and the pleasure is all mine."

The comment brings a smile to Mr. Harrington's face. "Well, let's get this meeting started."

I zone out fairly early into the meeting, but luckily, no one seems to notice. The only people who seem to even further acknowledge my presence are Flash, who occasionally glares at me, and Peter, who seems to be unable to focus on anything aside from the side of my head. I try to catch his eye, but he manages to avoid me each time.

The meeting passes by in a blur, most of which I spent wrapped up in my own thoughts. "So, I suppose the last item on the list is for us to take a vote on whether Lia joins the team," Liz states as she crosses off another item from her bulleted list.

"I'll take that as my cue," I reply with a gentle smile.

"Are you sure?" Liz questions. "You don't have to go."

"No, I think it'd be better that way. That way, no matter the outcome, there's no potential for _animosity_ between possible teammates."

Mr. Harrington nods, clearly impressed with my statement. The rest of the table nods in understanding, and Flash merely scoffs and crosses his arms in disdain. "I'll see everyone tomorrow then."

Everyone chimes goodbyes, Ned a second later than the rest, which makes me laugh as I sling my bag over my shoulder. The library doors click shut behind me as my phone buzzes in my hand with a reply from Happy letting me know his ETA.

My footsteps echo through the empty hallway as I scroll through all the missed messages from Trish and James. "Hey, Lia!" A voice echoes through the hall, and I turn around to find a red-faced Peter, with his glasses nearly dangling off of his nose.

"Hey, Peaker. What's up?" I question, feigning innocence as if I don't already know what this is most likely about.

"I just—you see the thing is—" He stutters, and I wait patiently as he tries to organize and articulate his thoughts. "Why did you stand up for that? And why didn't you deny it when Flash asked if we were—you—you know?"

"Dating?" Peter nods, still clearly uncomfortable. I smile softly and take a step forward to regain his attention. "Because, Flash is a bully, and I've known lots of people like him. Hell, I even dated one. One thing I always hated about myself was never standing up when others couldn't. You're nice, Parker. You left your class to check up on a girl you had literally _just_ met. No one should ever make you feel small or take that away from you." I sigh and shove back the memories and emotions threatening to surface. "Don't give them that power, Parker. Plus, now we're even."

Peter doesn't manage to say anything else. He just gives me an odd look as I smirk and walk away. "I'll see you tomorrow?" There's a small crack that threatens to appear in his voice amidst the sincere curiosity and worry.

"You know it, Peaker." I can't help but smile over my shoulder at him. There's something alluring about playing this game. I know it's foolish and dangerous to get close to somebody, anybody like Peter, a person who won't settle for false smiles and vague excuses—who actually cares. Maybe I'm merely tempting fate, but something tells me Peter Parker is worth the risk.

At least, that's what I convince myself of as I head out to meet Happy. A smile plasters itself on my face and refuses to budge despite my many attempts. I remind myself, it's just because I'm excited about the decathlon team. It's almost a lie, but there's just enough truth in there to let it take root.

"Meeting go that well?" Happy questions as he opens up the passenger door to Tony's sports car and cautiously looks me over. He looks half terrified at the sight of me smiling, and I try not to read too much into it as I nod and climb in.

"Nothing for sure yet, but I have a good feeling about it." I bite my lip to keep myself from saying anything more and hopefully minimize the smile.

Happy seems to notice and a small grimace over his usual stoicism. "It's good to see you smile again, you know." My head snaps in his direction, wondering what he could mean by the comment. "I'm serious when you first visited you were so energetic and bubbly. It was a pain in the butt trying to keep up with you and Tony half the time."

I don't make a sound, and Happy sighs as he continues. "Sometimes I think everyone, including you, forgets that you're just a kid. You shouldn't have to have gone through so much or worry about being a superhero. All you should have to worry about is being a kid."

"I haven't been a kid for a long time, Happy," I tell him soberly as I chip away at my black nail polish. "This is all I have now. I'm a REM; I can't pretend otherwise or ignore the responsibilities that come with it."

"Doesn't mean you have to put everything else on hold." Happy interjects, and I can feel the pointed look he's trying to give me without taking his eyes off the road. "Don't make Tony's mistakes, kid. Ask him, I can guarantee he'll tell you the same thing."

The rest of the drive back to the house is deathly silent beyond the gentle hum of the radio. Maybe Happy is right, but I can't admit that there's a chance at a normal life for me. Ever since the accident changed things and the incident with Henry, I've given up on any notion of being average—of being just Lia.

No. It's better to live at arm's length with everyone than to destroy them when I inevitably lose control or something of a hundred things goes wrong.

Maybe it means only living half a life, but it would be worth it if it means not ruining someone else's. Yet, despite the million reasons to not get close to someone, there's the natural instinct to get close, to let someone in, to take the risk despite the cost—like with Peter and Ned. There's that desire for real friendship instead of the imitation I'm settling for with Liz and her friends.

I tear myself to pieces in my head debating what I should do, and by the time we make it back to the mansion, my mind is nearly settled.


	11. Chapter10

"This doesn't make any sense." I whisper as I try to make sense of the copied files from Jim's office. My head is throbbing after staring at the same pages for the past few hours. I should have gone to sleep hours ago, but every time I try, there's a nightmare waiting for me.

A knock echoes through the apartment, and I hastily shove the papers into a folder to hide them away from prying eyes—an old habit I have yet to break. It takes me a second to realize it's not at my bedroom, but the front door that the sound is emanating from. A peek at my clock shows a set of blobs until I put my glasses and read 8:58 am.

"Oh-um—Tony. What are you doing here?" Mum's muffled voice makes it into my room, and I nearly launch myself at the sound of Dad's name. "I thought you were out of the country for another few days?"

"Plans changed, and I was hoping I could pick up Lia?" He questions as his footsteps into the apartment. "You're looking good by the way, Claire."

"Thank you. Can I get you anything while you wait?" I cringe at the second hand awkwardness that emanates from between them. It's always been like this, which means I usually have to stop it. "Oh, Lia, your father's here to pick you up."

I don't wait another second before I launch myself into his arms. "Hi, Dad." His laughter sends vibrations through me. "Please, don't leave like that again."

"Trust me, I don't want to." He brushes a hand over my hair. His voice drops down to a barely audible whisper as he says, "Go pack up your stuff. We've got some things to sort out."

"I'll go grab my bag." I tell him with a worried look. My hands shake as I try to toss clothes and the files into my bag with everything else I brought. "Ready. Bye, Mum."

"Bye, Sweetheart. Call me if you forgot or need anything." She calls after us, and I shout an affirmation over my shoulder as I practically drag Dad out to the car.

"Tell me everything." I whisper to him the moment we leave the apartment, which makes him let out a heavy sigh as he fills me in on all the details I'm missing. "This is wrong, Dad." I whisper after he has finished recounting every detail of the issues the Accords have caused. "It shouldn't be happening like this. We should be trying to reason and talk with them—not threatening arrest."

"Trust me, bug. I'm doing everything I can to fix this." His brown eyes reflect the pain and heartache I feel as he settles himself on the couch next to me with a heavy sigh. "The thing is—Steve is stubborn and immensely loyal to Bucky, which means this isn't gonna end well. I just—I need to know that you believe me when I say that all I want is to keep the team together, and I am doing _everything_ with the intention of keeping the Avengers together and operating."

I lean forward and wrap my arms around him. "Yeah, I know. They're _our_ family, and families with all fight _for_ each other." I bite back the tears as he pulls away with a soft smile. "Just promise me it will be okay—that by the end of this, we'll still be together?"

Tears brim in my dad's eyes at the words. "I don't know if I can promise that, but I can promise that you'll _always_ have me." A small chuckle escapes him as he continues, "'Cause you're stuck with me, kiddo."

I laugh and wipe my eyes, a little frustrated that they'll be red and puffy again tomorrow. "Pretty sure it's the other way around, but okay."

"Well, I've gotta start working on figuring out what to do." He offers me a sad smile as he leaves me to my own devices.

I plop myself down on the couch with a heavy sigh. It's nine thirty on a Sunday, and I have absolutely nothing to do but stress about things I can't change or understand. After all, Dad is dealing with the Accords stuff and won't let me help right now, and there's no telling what Jim's up to.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I immediately scramble to get it. A small smile creeps across my face at the notification of a text—from Peter. "Hey, I know you're probably busy, but if you're free do you still wanna come over for the movie marathon?"

I bite my lip as I consider it. A chance to hang out with my friend and get my mind off of things? It could be exactly what I need right now, or it could be a distraction from looking into the mysterious REM Trials.

"Hey, Dad." I call as I hop down the stairs to the lab where he's camped out. "Can I go hang out at a friend's this afternoon?"

He nearly smacks his head against one of the screens at the word 'friend' coming from me. Although, that same second he plays it off as if nothing happened. "Um—yeah, sure. Just be sure to keep me updated and let Happy know when to come pick you up? And don't get home too late."

I smile and wrap him in a tight hug. "Of course, Dad, and I promise it won't be too late. I have to be back in time for Happy and my Downton Abbey marathon. It's a tradition I can't miss."

Dad lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. "Alright, go have fun with your friends."

"Thanks, Dad. I'll see you later!" I call over my shoulder as I send texts to Peter and Happy about my plans. A smile takes over my features as I pack up some comfy clothes and snacks before climbing into the car with Happy.

By the time I make it to Peter's, I feel myself lighter and happier than I thought possible. It's like for a little while I don't _have_ to think about all the things going wrong, ending up in a super max facility, or finding buried secrets.

"Lia! H-hi. You're—you're here." Peter cheers the moment he sees me, which brings a smile to my face. "Sorry, I just wasn't sure if you were actually coming."

"Why wouldn't I?" I tease and follow him inside. "I've kind of been going a little bit crazy since everything on Thursday, which I have yet to thank you for helping with. My dad ended up being fine. He got back early this morning, and I've kind of been stuck inside with nothing but worry since then. So thank you for inviting me to com over. I really needed something to distract me from everything."

"Oh, yeah. It's no problem. I thought maybe you might not be up for stuff after everything that happened, but I'm glad you ca—" He's interrupted by a tall brunette woman entering the room and wrapping me up in a tight hug with a beaming smile. "May, please!"

"Sorry, I should have introduced myself. I'm Peter's Aunt May." She says as she pulls away and looks me over from head to toe. "You must be Lia; Peter has told me _so_ much about you."

The words make both my and Peter's cheeks turn crimson. "I haven't said that much."

"Oh, right. Forget I said anything and go enjoy your movie night. Just let me know if you need anything." She offers us one last smile before turning away and only stops for a split second to whisper to Peter. "Don't forget to keep the door open."

"Sorry about Aunt May. She gets a little excited when I bring friends over." Peter whispers awkwardly as he scrambles to organize some papers and electronics on his desk and small twin bed.

"I get it. My dad bumped his head in surprise when he heard I was going over to a friends." I tell him as my eyes trace around the room in search of something to distract from the tension of us being alone. "You weren't joking about messing with tech, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm trying to make a computer, but I haven't had much luck so far."

"I—I could help if you want. I'm not an expert or anything, but my dad lets me work on some of his stuff. We could see what we can come up with while we watch the movie? If you want that is."

Peter's lips tug into a wide, nervous grin. "I—I would really like that. Would you wanna sit?" I nod and tug at the sleeves of my hoodie as I set my bag down and sit next to him on the bed while he opens up his laptop.

We sit side by side with tools and pieces of thrown out technology scattered around us. It's comfortable like this, and I find myself happier and more relaxed.

Not to mention, every time Peter and I make eye contact, I keep forgetting what I was doing as my heart pounds in my chest. It makes me realize something I missed before, I think I might like Peter Parker.

The thought makes me want to phase into nothing. Peter Parker is one of my best friends and the nicest guys I've ever met. In retrospect, I guess something like this was bound to happen. I just wish it wasn't.

Peter is Spiderman, and I'm Phantom for goodness sakes. It would break my heart worse than anything imaginable if he got hurt because of me. He's already likely going to be pulled into this silly fight between the Avengers, but anything more between us is just asking for trouble. Yet, despite all that, I can't shake the comfort or warmth that comes with being around him.

It's hopeless, and I'm going to do everything I can to make sure nothing happens between us. Because as much as I wouldn't hate something with Peter, I can't let him become another Henry.


	12. Chapter11

It's just so much to process in such a short span of time. I have a crush on Peter Parker—who just so happens to be Spiderman, the Avengers are at war with each other, and my step-dad might be a mad scientist. There's barely been any time to really think about any of it, and any time I even try to untangle the knots, I seem to get even more intertwined in them. Not to mention, the immediate panic the mere thought it all brings.

I try to remind myself that I'm not alone. Dad is doing everything he can to make this alright, and Steve is simply following his heart and beliefs, which I can't deny having a sound sense of logic in certain aspects.

The Accords are honestly terrifying. Agent Ross has already made it abundantly clear that I fall under the current umbrella of their authority. I don't even know why since I'm not an official Avenger and am still a minor. But—that apparently means nothing—I've been told if I don't follow the rules they set, I'll be seen as an international criminal too.

It makes me want to scream as I change into my pajamas and climb into my coffin. The tension that I finally got rid of by my afternoon with Peter is back in full force, and my head throbs as I try to process everything.

All it would take is one slip up—one time of getting caught on patrol without someone's permission, and I'll be locked away in a super-secret, max security prison. My stomach feels queasy at the idea of it all.

Not to mention, I still have to figure out what Jim's doing at OSCORPS. There's something wrong about it. I can feel it in my chest. I'm missing something—something important that might just make sense of it all.

It feels like everything useful is just outside my reach, and each time I get close, it's gone. It's the endless cycle that keeps swirling through my head as I tuck myself into the coffin for the night of restless sleep.

 _Voices echo around me. The mix of low and high tones jumble together like the strange words they're using. I can hear them close by, but all I can make out are the shadows of their looming figures._

 _My limbs try to move, but something rough rubs against my skin and holds them in place. It sends my heart pounding in a futile attempt to get out of my chest. Fear settles in. Questions roll through my head._

 _One of the monsters leans over me. Sounds come from him, but I can't see a mouth moving. Instead, there's a patch where it should be, and it stretches and pulls as the noises pour out of him. The only visible, familiar feature is the eyes—a cold and deep icy blue._

 _A cold hand clamps on my inner elbow. I try to look down to see what's happening, but only spot a flash of blue before a sharp pain._

 _Fire pours into my veins. It's a burning that can only compare to the full Supernova trapped beneath my skin. The fire of a dying star's energy pumping through my veins._

 _My jaw clenches as I writhe and scream in unparalleled pain. The rubber mouthguard pokes at my cheeks and keeps me from biting my tongue or cracking my teeth. I can feel the energy roiling and trying to escape as my muscles spasm from whatever they're putting into me._

 _For a second, the shadows clouding my vision clears, and I can see the two monsters around me better than before. They watch me with rapt attention, using their strange blue hands to scrawl things down as they mumble things to another._

 _Something in me shifts at the sight of those blank faces and gleaming eyes. It's almost as if they're happy to see me like this, to know that I'm watching them in immense pain, and rather watch than do anything to help. I hate them for it._

 _I hate everything about them. Everything from the gleeful eyes, blank faces, and blue, clawed hands. I despise it all._

 _The pain of the energy fades in a dull pulsing that falls in time with my heartbeat. They continue to watch and whisper. Something in my chest pulls at my anger, the hurt, the fury. Another yell erupts from my throat as the tugging gets stronger, and I force my limbs free with a rush of strength and pain._

 _They both freeze. Eyes widen in shock. One of them rushes toward me, and I react. My brain can't quite process what's happening. All I know is that I want to stop it. I want to stop the pain—to stop the monsters from doing it again._

 _"Lia!" A familiar voice echoes, but it's muddled and hazy. There's a pressure around my wrists, which still ache from the restraints as the shouting continues. "Lia, wake up!"_

The bright white room shutters and disappears. I open my eyes to see my hands covered in cuts and blood, and Dad kneeling in front of me with worry etched into his face as he gently holds my wrists. I don't know why, but I cry. "It's okay, bug. You're okay now. I promise you, you're safe." He whispers as he brushes a hand over my curly hair.

"It was horrible, Dad. I've _never_ had that nightmare before, but it felt _so_ real. Maybe even more so than the others." I sob into his shirt, likely staining it with the blood from my hands and tears. "Why did it feel so real?"

He just kisses my forehead and holds me close to him until my breathing evens out. I pull away from his chest and finally take notice of the broken glass. The lid to the coffin is lifted, but there's still a very obvious hole in it. "Did I—?" My words trail off as I turn to Tony, who shares my look of worry and bewilderment. "How did I break it? It's supposed to be able to withstand my abilities—even my strength."

"I don't know. I just heard it breaking and your shouts and came running." He looks down at my hands, which still have slivers of glass in the cuts. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up. I don't want you hurting yourself any further."

I nod as I slip on some shoes he hands me to avoid stepping on glass. We walk through the house in silence. Neither of us is sure what to say or do. I know my mind is racing to catch bits of the nightmare that are quickly fading. There was something so _real_ about it. It didn't even feel like a dream—-more like the nightmares about the accident or _Henry_. But I doubt it was a memory. I mean, that wouldn't make sense—right?

Dad has me settle on a barstool as he sits across from me and cleans out the glass and cuts. "Do you want to talk about the nightmare?" He asks gently as he looks at me with the same eyes I inherited from him. "I'm assuming it was a bad one." I stay quiet as I watch him work on my hands, unable to bring myself to tell him. "You know, I get nightmares too."

My head snaps up at the comment. I've only _really_ gotten to know my Dad these past months, but not once has he ever mentioned nightmares before. "What about?"

"New York, and losing Pepper—and you—to threats that I can't protect you from." He pauses for a moment. "I wake up and then I'm terrified to go back to sleep. So, most times, I work because I think if I get my mind off of it—"

"—It will stop haunting you." I finish for him. "Yeah, I know that feeling."

He nods and holds on to my now bandaged hands in his. "I know you still have nightmares about the accident and what happened after to Henry. Was that it this time?"

I shake my head and fight back the tears. "It was—it was so real. I felt _everything_ so much more vividly this time. The pain, the restraints, the cold—they were all so real."

"Tell me what happened, bug, please." He requests so softly, and so, despite the tears, I tell him each and every detail that I can recall. By the time I finish, there's a look of horror and disgust on his face. Something else lingers in his expression, but I can't quite place it. "It was just a dream, Lia. C'mon, let's see if we can't get your mind off of it for a while."

I smile in appreciation that he knows sleep is the last thing I want right now. Instead, he spends the night on the couch with me watching TV with me until the rest of the world starts its day. And we return back to our usual worries and troubles—like school and how to keep the Avengers from becoming criminals.

The hours tick by in a blur. My classes go by in a blur and passing concern from Peter about my bandaged hands, and the moment I get home I run to the lab to focus on what Dad asked me to do. "Any progress, bug?" He asks as he rounds the corner, and I hold up a finger as I type a few more commands into the computer.

"Not yet, but I think I'm getting close," I mumble and continue to search through the mass of metadata flooding my screen. "Cap and Bucky are top notch. They know how to stay off the grid and away from anything that could track them. But I'm good too. So it's only a matter of time before we find out who's better."

He chuckles at the comment and ruffles my hair. I glare at him and brush it back into place and over my scar. It's only then that I notice he's dressed for a meeting. "You going somewhere?"

"In a bit, yes." He replies as he cleans the lenses of his colored sunglasses. "I was hoping to see if you would have a lead first."

I give him a look and gesture to the chair beside me. "Feel free to lend a hand if you're in a rush, but you should give me _some_ credit. I've gotten farther than most of the professional analysts have."

My computer pings and cuts my dad off before he can say a sassy remark. "I knew that prediction algorithm would come in handy," I smirk, and Dad returns it with an added look of pride. "If I'm right—which I usually am—it looks like they're heading to Germany. Berlin to be exact."

He kisses my forehead and pulls me into a tight hug. "I knew you could do it, bug. You're a genius just like me." I chuckle and shake my head at him. "Do me a favor and send me and the team the details. I've got a potential recruit to meet."

I turn to him in shock. _Recruit?_ Tony nods, which makes me realize I must have said it aloud. "Don't worry, bug. It's just that Spider-boy I had you track down earlier. He might help us surprise Steve. Besides, no one could replace my favorite future Avenger."

"Okay." I barely manage with a smile and watch as he goes. My heart feels like it's trying to tunnel it's way out of my chest. This is it. He's going to recruit Peter for this. I've officially pulled my best friend into this mess, and it means I'll have another huge secret to actively keep from him.

The list of things I can't tell my best friend just seems to be growing—that I'm Tony Stark's daughter, everything about the car accident and the Henry incident, and now that I'm Phantom. I rest my head against the work table and question Fate on how she could possibly make my life any more complicated.


End file.
